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THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


BY 


H.  E.  WARNER 


PUBLISHED  FOR  THE  INTERNATIONAL  UNION 
GINN  & COMPANY,  BOSTON 
1905 


Copyright,  1905 

By  H.  E.  WARNER 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


PREFACE 


This  little  volume  had  its  origin  in  a series  of  papers 
read  to  the  Ethical  Club  of  Washington,  D.C.,  at  the 
time  just  preceding  and  following  the  Spanish  War.  As 
it  was  designed  that  each  should  present  its  special  topic 
with  a degree  of  completeness,  it  was  often  necessary  at 
the  beginning  of  successive  papers  to  outline  the  preced- 
ing. It  is  hoped  that  such  repetitions  are  not  greater 
than  is  desirable  to  keep  the  whole  subject  well  in  mind. 
While  the  chapters  are  in  a sense  independent,  they  relate 
to  different  phases  of  the  same  subject.  The  popular 
conceptions  of  heroism  and  patriotism  are  tremendous 
factors  in  every  war.  Differing  widely  as  I do  from 
these  popular  conceptions,  any  inference  that  I hold  the 
things  themselves  at  a lower  valuation  than  others  would 
be  most  erroneous.  What  I desire  is  that  the  conceptions 
be  recast  in  the  mold  of  the  highest  rationality. 

To  forestall  any  misconception  as  to  my  animus,  it 
may  be  permissible  to  mention  a circumstance  to  which 
I should  not  otherwise  allude.  It  was  my  fortune,  and  in 
some  respects  my  privilege,  to  serve  in  the  ranks  during 
the  Civil  War.  Shortly  after  enlistment  I had  an  attack 
of  fever  which  nearly  proved  fatal.  This  was  followed 
by  a brief  captivity,  in  which  I had  a taste  of  about  all 
the  forms  of  discomfort  which  could  be  had.  A year 

iii 


IV 


PREFACE 


later  a bullet,  having  deprived  me  of  an  important  mem- 
ber, terminated  my  active  service,  but  added  many 
months  to  my  hospital  experience.  After  this  I rounded 
out  my  military  career  with  another  fever.  If  not  much 
glory  fell  to  my  share,  I had  certainly  an  almost  unique 
opportunity  of  seeing  war  on  its  seamy  side.  In  spite 
of  this,  I am  sure  that  my  attitude  toward  it  is  not  in 
the  least  based  upon  personal  grounds.  It  should  be 
clear,  too,  that  I cannot  possibly  lack  appreciation  of 
and  sympathy  for  the  soldier.  I may  indeed  confess 
that  I have  not  succeeded  wholly  in  ridding  myself  of 
the  irrational  sentiment  which  attaches  itself  to  the  con- 
cepts “heroism”  and  “patriotism,”  though  these  are 
not  now  satisfied  by  spelling  the  words  with  a capital 
letter  nor  by  the  bursting  of  firecrackers. 

I am  under  no  illusion  that  this  book  will  have  many 
readers  or  exert  any  remarkable  influence.  A few  will, 
I trust,  sympathize  with  my  purpose  and  find  in  my 
labor  of  love  some  stimulus  for  further  effort  and  fresher 
hope  for  the  race.  However  this  may  be,  every  man 
born  into  the  world  owes  it  to  himself  to  express,  in 
some  way,  his  deepest  convictions  ; and  this  debt  I have 
endeavored  to  pay. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I.  Introduction i 

II.  The  Ethics  of  Heroism ii 

III.  The  Ethics  of  Patriotism 38 

IV.  Can  War  be  defended  on  the  Authority  of 

Christ?  65 

V.  Can  War  be  defended  on  Grounds  of  Reason?  . 82 

VI.  Some  Objections 107 


V 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 
Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


https://archive.org/details/ethicsofforceOOwarn_0 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


I 

INTRODUCTION 

That  war,  in  modern  times,  whatever  may  have  been 
true  in  the  past,  is  an  enormous  economic  mistake  will 
hardly  be  questioned  by  any  well-informed  person.  Why, 
then,  among  civilized  peoples  in  whom  the  commercial 
instincts  are  strong,  not  to  say  predominant,  does  it 
continue  .■*  Partly,  no  doubt,  because  it  is  regarded  as 
inevitable.  It  is  one  of  the  mysterious  dispensations  of 
Providence,  against  which  it  is  held  to  be  useless  to  strive, 
and  of  which  it  is  wrong  to  complain.  Mainly,  however, 
it  is  because  the  mass  of  men  fail  to  realize  its  burden, 
or  upon  whom  the  burden  falls.  The  government,  they 
somehow  think,  provides  for  it.  It  may  be  the  galled 
jade,  but  their  withers  are  unwrung.  Our  system  of 
indirect  taxation,  which  also  prevails  in  most  countries, 
helps  to  conceal  the  facts.  If  its  costs  could  be  rendered 
in  tax  bills,  to  be  paid  like  state,  county,  and  school  taxes, 
war  would  at  once  lose  most  of  its  popularity.  Could  it 
further  be  realized  that  every  man,  woman,  and  child 
born  into  the  world,  property  holders  or  not,  directly  or 
indirectly  share  in  its  losses  and  wastes,  it  would  lose 

I 


2 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


the  rest  of  it.  There  would  remain  a few  who,  trading 
upon  the  necessities  of  the  government  in  the  deranged 
conditions  of  affairs  and  realizing  a profit  greater  than 
their  share  in  the  burdens,  would  still  be  in  favor  of  war, 
quite  irrespective  of  the  controversies  out  of  which  it 
might  arise. 

Still,  these  are  mainly  negative  reasons  and  hardly 
explain  the  origin  of  a particular  war,  as,  for  example, 
the  recent  war  in  South  Africa.  To  say  that  it  was  due 
to  the  greed  of  the  British  Government  or  to  the  obsti- 
nacy of  President  Kruger  is  easy ; but  for  a nation  to 
pay  for  a possession  or  privilege  ten  times  more  than  it 
is  worth,  or  for  another  to  court  annihilation  rather  than 
to  make  a reasonable  concession,  points  not  so  much  to 
greed  and  stubbornness  as  to  stupidity. 

In  fact,  wars  are  rarely  designed.  Selfishness  and 
greed  on  the  part  of  individuals,  in  both  parties  to  the 
controversy,  exist ; but  neither  the  governments  nor  the 
persons  responsible  for  the  conduct  of  public  business 
may  have  anything  at  stake.  Interests  clash,  and  some 
method  of  adjustment  must  be  found.  This  is  true  every- 
where ; but  if  the  parties  are  citizens  of  the  same  govern- 
ment, questions  between  them  are  settled  in  the  domestic 
courts  ; if  of  different  governments,  no  adequate  machin- 
ery exists  for  the  purpose,  and  until  the  recent  estab- 
lishment of  The  Hague  Court  none  has  existed  at  all. 
The  governments  themselves  come  to  the  aid  of  their 
citizens  and  make  themselves  parties  to  the  dispute. 
Each  claims  more  than  it  is  entitled  to  receive,  intending 
to  make  graceful  concessions  for  the  sake  of  substantial 
gains.  Meantime  the  commercial  interests  are  insistent 


INTRODUCTION 


3 


and  clamorous  for  the  whole,  urging  the  government  to 
extreme  positions.  In  domestic  affairs  this  would  not 
even  be  thought  of;  but  their  adversaries  are  foreigners, 
to  whom  they  owe  no  duty,  not  even  that  of  courtesy. 
The  governments  are  under  no  compulsion.  They  can  go 
to  war  without  violating  international  law.  Finally,  a 
point  is  reached,  unexpectedly,  where  the  national  honor 
is  involved,  and  nothing  is  left  but  mutual  destruction. 

But  the  conception  of  national  honor  has  been  derived 
from  the  ideas  of  heroism  and  patriotism  still  found  under 
high  civilization.  How  have  these  come  about  ? We  say 
sometimes  they  have  been  perverted.  On  the  contrary, 
they  are  only  too  faithful  a transmission  of  those  which 
prevailed  under  a lower  culture.  They  have  not  developed 
to  meet  the  changed  conditions  of  life. 

Governments  do  not  act  upon  the  highest  intelligence 
of  the  community,  but  upon  a composite,  called  public 
opinion.  Perhaps  in  a degree  they  cannot  do  otherwise; 
but  it  is  most  unfortunate  if  those  in  authority  have  no 
higher  standard,  intellectual  and  moral,  than  that  of  the 
average  citizen.  However  this  may  be,  it  is  clearly  futile 
to  hope  for  the  cessation  of  war  through  a realization  of  its 
wickedness.  Wicked  for  whom  ? The  enemy,  of  course, 
always.  But  if  the  mass  of  men  can  be  brought  to  see 
its  expensiveness,  not  to  a figment  called  government, 
but  to  themselves,  to  see  that  national  honor  does  not 
necessarily  require  the  destruction  of  persons  living 
under  another  government,  with  whom  they  may  differ, 
and  that  an  economical  way  of  settling  these  differences 
is  in  actual  use  or  perfectly  practicable,  then  war  will 


cease. 


4 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


I have  everywhere  assumed  that  conditions  existing  at 
any  period  of  human  history  are  the  results  of  an  evolu- 
tionary process ; but  I have  here  no  concern  for  the  theory 
of  evolution  itself,  nor  for  the  principle  to  which  it  owes 
its  efficiency.  As  to  this  I claim  no  right  to  speak.  I 
was  slow  to  accept  evolution  as  relates  to  the  origin  of 
species.  Like  the  man  mentioned  by  Mr.  Fiske,  I refused 
to  be  called  a mammal  or  the  son  of  a mammal.  I was 
unwilling  to  recognize  my  remote  simian  ancestor,  not 
to  speak  of  tracing  descent  from  a speck  of  protoplasm. 
I first  observed  its  process  in  the  law,  the  manner  in 
which  legal  principles  are  evolved,  and  through  which 
they  take  shapes  widely  different  from  those  in  which 
they  began.  Further  consideration  showed  the  same 
principle  at  work  in  language,  literature,  philosophy, 
religion,  and  finally  in  all  forms  of  social  organization. 
Not  that  all  changes  are  beneficial.  A condition  at  a 
given  time  may  be  leading  forward  or  backward.  The 
law  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest  provides  at  the  same 
time  for  the  destruction  of  the  unfit.  Ideas  and  institu- 
tions grow,  culminate,  and  disappear,  in  obedience  to  this 
law.  That  it  exists  in  some  form  in  the  world  of  thought 
and  social  order  there  cannot  be  the  slightest  ques- 
tion, although  Darwin,  Wallace,  and  Huxley  all  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  “ survival  of  the  fittest  ” did  not 
account  for  the  mind  of  man,  Mr.  Huxley  especially  ex- 
cluding the  aesthetic  and  ethical  sense.  It  should  be 
remembered,  however,  that  these  men  were  employed, 
in  the  main,  with  the  study  of  physical  forms  and  organ- 
isms rather  than  with  psychic  and  social  development, 
and  that  they  had  no  special  qualification  for  the  latter 


INTRODUCTION 


5 


task.  Herbert  Spencer  has  applied  a form  of  it  to 
account  for  all  ideas,  institutions,  and  social  forms ; 
but  his  conclusions  have  not  generally  been  accepted. 
The  principle  of  utility,  in  its  usual  aspect,  is  not  enough 
to  account  for  the  compulsory  force  in  evolution,  which 
takes  into  its  grasp  men  and  things,  and  compels  changes 
unforeseen  and  undesired. 

This  coercive  force  Mr.  Kidd  finds  in  the  religious 
sanction.  Religion  he  defines  as  “a  form  of  belief  pro- 
viding an  ultra-rational  sanction  for  that  large  class  of 
conduct  in  the  individual  where  his  interests  and  the 
interests  of  the  social  organism  are  antagonistic,  and 
by  which  the  former  are  subordinated  to  the  latter  in 
the  general  interests  of  the  evolution  which  the  race  is 
undergoing.”  This  definition  is  defective  in  at  least  one 
respect,  as  it  is  the  application  of  the  principle  of  religion 
to  a certain  line  of  conduct  which  the  definition  contem- 
plates, not  the  nature  of  religion  itself.  More  recently 
Mr.  Kidd  has  supplemented  his  theory  with  the  doctrine 
of  projected  efficiency, — that  is,  that  an  individual  or 
group  must  not  only  be  fitted  to  survive  in  the  conditions 
prevailing  in  the  present,  but  in  those  which  will  prevail  in 
the  future.  In  the  movement  of  the  race  one  who  drops 
out  of  the  ranks  is  doomed.  This,  it  will  be  seen,  applies 
more  to  the  social  groups  than  to  individuals,  whose  lives 
are  too  short  to  feel  the  application  of  the  principle  in  its 
full  extent. 

Mr.  Fiske  recognized  the  process  of  evolution  in  the 
formation  of  ideas  and  in  the  social  order,  but  he  con- 
ceived that  in  some  way  there  had  been  a break  or 
change  of  direction,  from  which  he  argues  that  man  is 


6 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


the  highest  product  of  evolution  and  that,  the  physical 
form  having  been  perfected,  the  process  is  now  at  work 
on  the  mental  and  moral  nature,  and  that  the  psychic 
nature  is  or  will  be  so  far  developed  that  it  will  be  able 
to  survive  the  loss  of  the  physical  organism. 

Whatever  the  validity  of  the  argument  for  immortality, 
I do  not  believe  there  has  been  any  break  or  change  of 
direction  in  the  process  of  evolution ; nor  do  I agree 
with  Mr.  Kidd  that  an  ultra-rational  factor  forms  its 
coercive  power.  That  religion  has  in  it  an  ultra-rational 
element  is,  I believe,  true,  as  also  that  it  has  exercised  an 
enormous  and  incalculable  influence  on  the  race ; but 
religion  as  much  as  anything  else  is  a product  of  evolu- 
tion. The  objection  to  Mr.  Kidd’s  view,  as  to  that  of 
Mr.  Fiske,  is  that  at  a given  period  — the  advent  of  man 
in  the  world — the  law  of  evolution  has  had  imposed  upon 
it  from  the  outside  a new  character  or  force.  No  objec- 
tion is  made  to  the  theistic  assumption,  as  I think  we 
must  make  that  in  any  case.  It  lies  at  the  very  base 
of  reasoning.  We  can  only  reason  in  terms  of  cause 
and  effect.  Evolution  in  no  way  explains  origins.  The 
process  itself  was  somewhere  instituted  and  put  to  work 
in  the  universe.  The  “ power  not  ourselves  which  makes 
for  righteousness  ” it  is  at  least  convenient  to  call  God. 
But  having  established  a process  which  has  been  at  work 
during  the  entire  period  of  the  world’s  history  and  which 
still  rigorously  holds  man  in  its  grasp  — his  physical  as 
well  as  his  psychic  nature  — and  controls  all  the  move- 
ments of  society,  it  is  not  only  unwarranted  by  any  evi- 
dence whatever,  but  illogical,  to  suppose  that  He  has 
superseded  it  or  given  it  a new  force  or  direction.  If  we 


INTRODUCTION 


7 


cannot  see  in  just  what  way  it  has  evolved  the  aesthetic 
or  ethical  sense,  neither  can  we  see  just  how  it  has 
developed  the  sense  of  sight  or  hearing.  We  only  infer 
that  it  has  done  so  by  comparing  conditions  known 
to  have  existed  at  long  intervals.  There  is  no  question 
that,  once  evolved,  these  and  all  other  senses  and  facul- 
ties are  useful,  and  that  they  are  developed  and  strength- 
ened by  use.  The  hand  with  its  grasping  power  was  not 
a ready-made  device  with  which  man  was  endowed,  but 
was  developed  by  the  use  of  the  tools  and  weapons  which 
he  handled.  They  in  turn  were  developed  in  connection 
with  the  employment  of  the  hand.  The  possession  of 
reason  and  sagacity  by  man  at  the  period  when  his  social 
development  began  is  assumed  by  Mr.  Kidd  as  a reason 
for  placing  man’s  evolution  in  a class  by  itself ; but 
reason  and  sagacity  had  their  origin  among  animals  far 
below  man,  and  have  developed  with  their  use. 

The  view  I have  undertaken  to  present  is  that  men- 
tality, beyond  that  rudimentary  form  of  it  found  in  the 
lower  orders,  grew  out  of  the  necessity  of  supplementing 
a feeble  physical  power  and  inefficient  natural  weapons 
with  cunning  in  man’s  competition  with  more  powerful 
animals.  The  ethical  sense  grew  out  of  the  realized 
advantage  of  combination.  But  two  men  each  intent  on 
killing  and  devouring  the  other  cannot  combine.  For 
this  a basis  of  confidence  is  necessary.  To  disarm  sus- 
picion by  a simulated  kindness  would,  though  the  kindness 
were  temporary,  be  an  advantage,  and  this  through  repe- 
tition would  by  and  by  become  instinctive.  If  not  very 
deep,  it  would  in  time  have  pretty  well  defined  areas  of 
employment,  and  could,  within  these  limits,  be  trusted. 


8 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


Thus,  without  design  or  expectation,  altruism  would  com- 
mence its  mission  in  the  world,  destined  in  the  end, 
by  its  utility,  to  overshadow  all  the  advantages  which 
could  be  gained  from  individual  effort  and  to  subordinate 
the  selfish  and  self-interested  desires. 

I do  not  think  that  any  other  principle  than  utility,  in 
a very  wide  sense,  is  necessary  to  explain  this ; but 
there  is  something  in  the  application  of  it  to  which  I 
wish  to  call  a moment’s  attention.  It  is  that  utility  itself 
is  an  ever-changing  quantity,  as  it  is,  like  everything, 
under  the  law  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  The  thing 
which  to-day  is  useful  may  to-morrow  be  useless  and  an 
encumbrance.  Our  utilities  are  not  usually  foreseen,  but 
are  the  result  of  something  like  accident.  A principle 
thus  revealed  is  wrought  out  by  actual  and  repeated 
trials,  and  usually  with  many  failures.  Once  fairly 
attained,  if  it  is  a utility,  that  with  which  it  competes 
becomes  an  inutility.  It  is  not  enough  that  a device  can 
secure  something  in  itself  useful : it  must  secure  the 
most  useful  result  attainable.  The  old  process  of  steel 
making  ceased  to  be  useful  with  the  discovery  of  the 
Bessemer  process.  The  whole  road  of  industrial  prog- 
ress is  strewn  with  the  wreckage  of  obsolete  utilities. 
This,  I believe,  brings  us  pretty  well  into  line  with  Mr. 
Kidd’s  doctrine  of  projected  efficiency.  What  I have 
said  about  man  living  under  artificial  conditions  and 
making  his  own  environment  is  quite  in  harmony  with  it, 
if  not  identical. 

On  the  other  hand,  a thing  useful  to  high  intelligence 
is  worthless  or  a danger  to  a less  disciplined  or  experi- 
enced mind.  An  automobile  or  a can  of  nitroglycerin 


INTRODUCTION 


9 


would  be  anything  but  useful  to  an  Andaman  islander. 
The  understanding  of  its  use  is  as  necessary  as  its 
capacity  to  perform  a certain  work  or  function.  Thus 
we  may  see  that  from  the  inception  of  the  simplest  form 
of  life  up  to  its  highest  there  has  been  struggle  and 
reaction,  — life  upon  its  environment  and  environment 
upon  life.  With  man,  not  quite  for  the  first  time,  but  in 
a practical  and  large  sense,  there  began  an  era  of  par- 
tially artificial  environment,  which  nevertheless  gave  its 
reaction  to  his  struggle  just  as  the  natural  one  had. 
Man  ceased  to  compete  to  a great  extent  with  the  lower 
animals  and  began  to  compete  with  himself.  There  is 
no  danger  of  deterioration  for  lack  of  opportunity  for 
struggle.  On  the  contrary,  this  seems  to  grow  more  des- 
perate from  generation  to  generation. 

Nor  does  it  appear  that  the  law  of  the  survival  of  the 
fittest  has  been  suspended,  as  applied  to  the  physical 
organism,  in  the  artificial  environment  of  society,  as  has 
been  sometimes  thought.  The  physical  perfection  of 
individuals,  destined  to  become  the  natural  leaders  of 
the  group  in  trials  of  pure  physical  strength  and  agility, 
is  no  longer  necessary,  and  the  process  has  perhaps 
ceased,  though  this  is  not  very  clear ; but  that  the 
whole  group  is  more  efficient  in  this  sense  seems  to  be 
shown  by  the  lengthened  period  of  life.  Mere  strength 
has  not  always  been  a utility,  even  under  the  conditions 
of  purely  animal  life.  The  cave  bear  and  lion,  the  mam- 
moth, great  saurians,  and  fishes  have  perished,  their  very 
size  probably  making  it  harder  to  supply  themselves  with 
food.  The  competition  which  has  gone  on  was  not  only 
between  individuals  but  between  species.  This  is  why 


10 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


the  record  of  the  rocks  proclaims  “ a thousand  types  are 
gone.”  If  man  is  to  continue  at  the  head  of  creation,  it 
will  be  through  eternal  struggle  and  adaptation  to  his 
environment,  slowly  changing  by  his  own  efforts,  pur- 
posive and  undesigned.  Whether  in  the  future  of  life 
upon  the  earth  he  shall  be  “ sealed  within  the  iron  hills,” 
and  a nobler  type  succeed  him,  we  are  in  no  position  to 
say.  There  is  nothing  now  to  suggest  it,  nor  is  it  a mat- 
ter of  practical  concern.  But  the  changes  of  that  future, 
if  it  shall  in  any  way  compare  with  the  measureless  past, 
where  the  horologue  of  time  ticked  off  the  eons,  we 
cannot  dimly  conjecture. 


II 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HEROISM 

A hero,  as  defined  by  Worcester,  is  “a  man  distin- 
guished for  valor,  or  for  war-like  achievements,  a great 
warrior,  a brave  man.”  The  bravery  contemplated  is  ani- 
mal daring  exerted  in  the  sphere  of  physical  conflict ; it 
is  brute  courage  employed  in  the  destruction  of  life 
or  property,  whether  for  purpose  of  defense  or  plunder. 
From  the  beginnings  of  the  race  this  kind  of  courage 
has  been  held  in  extraordinary  esteem.  In  the  progress 
of  mankind  other  qualities  have  come  in  for  a qualified 
admiration,  but  this  quality  in  all  times,  among  all  races, 
tribes,  and  nations,  has  called  for  the  instinctive  and  vocif- 
erous applause  of  men.  Not  those  who  add  to  the  com- 
fort, safety,  and  well-being  of  others,  but  they  who  inflict 
pain,  injury,  wounds,  and  death  are  the  envy  of  men  and 
the  idols  of  women.  The  Homeric  tale  of  Venus  desert- 
ing her  skillful  and  ingenious  spouse  for  the  red-handed 
Mars  is  fairly  typical.  Though  like  courage  and  endur- 
ance be  required,  he  is  no  hero  who  merely  constructs, 
but  he  who  destroys.  He  may,  indeed,  be  the  defender 
of  his  tribe  or  clan,  or  its  leader  against  a neighboring 
tribe,  but  even  if  successful,  that  alone  brings  but  a 
qualified  approbation.  That  which  appeals  to  his  fellows 
is  the  spectacular  bravery  which  seeks  opportunities  to 
display  itself,  delights  in  fighting  for  the  demonstration 

1 1 


12 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


of  superiority,  and  in  taking  life  and  shedding  blood  as  a 
dexterity.  To  complete  the  heroic  ideal,  he  must  bear 
his  own  life  lightly  and  yield  it  up  gayly  where  the 
chances  go  against  him  or  his  adversary  proves  to  be 
the  greater  hero. 

Here,  indeed,  is  the  fatal  infirmity  of  the  glory  of 
combat.  Every  hero  is  doomed,  sooner  or  later,  through 
failing  powers  or  uncontrollable  circumstances,  to  defeat. 
The  suitors  in  the  Odyssey,  brutal,  repellent  as  they  are, 
boastful,  swaggering,  cruel  to  the  weak,  were  neverthe- 
less heroes  according  to  the  definition,  and  fairly  entitled 
to  their  high-sounding  epithets.  It  is  not  for  their  cruelty 
or  barbarity,  for  lack  of  skill  or  courage,  that  the  poet 
holds  them  up  for  our  disapprobation.  It  is  merely  that 
they  had  trespassed  on  the  preserves  of  a still  greater 
hero.  Ulysses  was  no  whit  less  savage  or  cruel,  but  he 
was  stronger  and  more  skillful  in  taking  life. 

Goliath  was  to  the  Israelites  a savage  monstrosity,  but 
an  unparalleled  hero  to  the  Philistines  until  his  glory  was 
appropriated  by  the  shepherd  lad.  There  were  heroes  of 
this  type  in  David’s  bodyguard  also.  Chancing  to  hear 
their  leader  sigh  for  a drink  of  water  from  a certain 
spring,  they  broke  through  the  Philistine  lines  to  obtain 
it.  David,  however,  had  other  qualities  than  daring,  and 
had  no  mind  tp  sacrifice  his  valuable  material  in  any 
such  feather-headed  enterprise,  and  he  turned  the  water 
on  the  ground  in  token  of  his  disapproval  of  it.  The 
story  of  the  cavalier  who  sprang  into  the  arena  among 
the  lions  to  rescue  the  glove  of  his  lady  is  in  point.  The 
grain  of  sense  which,  in  fact,  he  showed  was  in  throwing 
the  glove  in  her  face.  But  while  in  history,  romance, 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HEROISM 


13 


song,  and  folklore  the  hero  has  always  been  glorified,  it 
is  among  the  Norsemen  that  the  apotheosis  of  courage 
has  been  attained.  No  higher  ideal  of  happiness  or 
reward  in  the  future  life  was  found  than  that  their 
heroes  should  hack  each  other  to  pieces  every  day,  to  be 
restored  again  at  night,  that  this  grim  joy  might  go  on 
forever. 

There  is,  however,  another  element  in  the  heroic  ideal, 
or  at  least  in  the  popular  conception  of  the  hero.  The 
man  who  is  slain  may  be  just  as  brave  as  his  adversary, 
and  only  less  skillful,  but  scant  admiration  is  wasted  on 
him.  To  win  unstinted  applause  one  must  succeed.  The 
hero  is  such  only  while  he  is  victorious.  Success  does 
as  a rule  carry  with  it  the  idea  of  physical  perfection. 
In  primitive  times,  when  the  combat  was  determined 
solely  by  force,  the  hero  must  needs  be  the  stronger 
man.  If  stratagem,  surprise,  concealment,  or  duplicity 
were  factors,  he  must  also  excel  in  these  ; if  skill  in  the 
use  of  arms,  that,  too,  must  be  superadded.  Finally,  mys- 
terious virtues  in  the  weapons  themselves  became  an 
element  in  the  conception.  Supernatural  aid  seems  only 
to  heighten  the  admiration  for  the  one  who  thus  over- 
comes his  adversary.  The  gods  come  to  the  rescue  of 
the  heroes  in  the  Iliad,  and  David  had  the  assistance  of 
the  all-powerful  Jahveh.  Durandal,  the  sword  of  Roland, 
possessed  supernatural  qualities  in  itself,  and  was  first 
given  to  Charlemagne  by  an  angel.  When  men  came  to 
fight  on  horseback  their  steeds  shared  semi-divine  honors 
with  them.  In  brief,  as  the  facilities  for  taking  life 
increased,  it  was  necessary  for  the  hero  to  be  equipped 
with  all  the  latest  improvements.  In  the  fine  art  of 


14 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


slaughter  he  must  needs  excel  in  his  person,  his  charac- 
teristics, and  his  arms.  Though  bravery  was  a chief 
means  of  accomplishment,  it  was  success  that  won  ap- 
plause, and  it  did  not  much  matter  how  the  factors 
contributing  to  it  were  proportioned  to  each  other.  It 
was  a practical  end  or  utility  which  was  sought.  It  was 
merely  a case  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  The  hero 
was  the  one  who  was  better  fitted  than  his  opponents 
to  resist  the  influences  from  without  tending  to  the 
destruction  of  life. 

But  while  physical  courage  has  been  the  most 
applauded  of  human  qualities,  it  has  been  the  most  com- 
mon, I may  say  redundant.  All  men  have  not  been 
heroes,  because  all  cannot  successfully  compete  with 
their  fellows.  Almost  all  men  have  desired  to  be,  and 
have  failed  not  for  lack  of  courage  but  from  the  limita- 
tions of  their  physical  organism.  Only  one  in  a group 
can  stand  at  the  head  ; but  never  does  a leader  fall  but 
plenty  of  his  followers  press  eagerly  forward  to  contend 
for  the  dangerous  honor  of  taking  his  place.  Never  was 
a hope  so  forlorn  that  more  men  than  enough  have  not 
dedicated  their  lives  to  the  slender  chance  of  its  success. 
Lord  Roberts  gives  a picturesque  illustration  where,  at 
the  relief  of  Lucknow,  the  guns  had  made  a breach  in  a 
wall  just  large  enough  for  a man  to  squeeze  through. 
Scores  of  men  raced  for  the  opening,  each  one  knowing 
perfectly  that  the  winner  would  be  shot  dead  as  he 
passed  through. 

But  in  this  form  of  courage  the  civilized  man  is  not 
superior  to  the  savage.  He  is  probably  decidedly  inferior, 
but,  because  of  his  greater  knowledge  of  the  forces  of 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HEROISM 


15 


nature,  he  is  a far  more  formidable  instrumentality  for 
the  destruction  of  life  and  property.  Nor  does  man  in 
any  stage  of  culture  possess  this  courage  in  a higher 
degree  than  the  brutes.  The  reverse  is  the  case ; and, 
indeed,  the  lower  we  descend  in  the  scale,  the  more 
completely  all  moral  considerations,  all  perceptions  of 
consequence  are  eliminated,  the  more  absolute,  uncom- 
promising, and  inflexible  it  becomes.  To  this  there  are 
apparent  exceptions,  but  these  admit  of  easy  explana- 
tions. The  animals  to  whom  we  attribute  gentleness 
and  timidity,  in  a state  of  nature,  will  be  found  unpro- 
vided with  the  means  of  contending  with  the  more 
savage  and  so-called  courageous  beasts  on  anything  like 
equal  terms.  These  will  usually  be  found  to  have  devel- 
oped qualities  which  are  an  admirable  substitute, — 
fleetness  of  foot  or  wing  to  enable  them  to  escape  pur- 
suit, superior  cunning,  means  of  concealment  or  of  occu- 
pying positions  out  of  the  reach  of  their  antagonists. 
But  even  among  these,  displays  of  the  most  absolute 
daring  are  not  at  all  rare.  The  wren,  we  are  told  on 
excellent  authority,  will  “peck  at  the  estridge  and  we 
know  that  the  humming-bird,  that  tiny  bit  of  darting 
color,  does  not  hesitate,  under  certain  circumstances,  to 
attack  the  lord  of  creation.  Among  the  savage  and 
cruel  sorts  the  same  principle  may  be  observed.  The 
wolf  is  accused  of  cowardice  where  he  really  uses  judg- 
ment. He  has  the  intelligence  to  measure  the  resources 
of  his  antagonist,  and  by  himself  will  not  attack  a creature 
for  which  he  is  no  match.  But  with  his  fellows  he  attacks 
the  most  formidable  antagonist,  and  does  not  shrink  from 
the  wholesale  destruction  around  him,  nor  from  pains. 


l6  THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 

wounds,  and  death  to  himself.  The  lemming  in  his 
migrations  stops  at  nothing ; woe  to  the  man  or  animal 
that  stands  in  the  way  of  the  stream  rolling  on  to  the 
sea  to  lose  itself  in  the  waves.  Even  ants  will  attack 
large  animals  or  men,  and  by  their  numbers  overcome 
them.  In  their  battles  with  other  tribes  they  show  the 
most  incredible  hardihood.  They  do  not  stop  for  the 
loss  of  legs  and  wings  and  the  most  frightful  wounds. 
When  the  mandibles  of  another  have  severed  the  head 
of  one  of  these  warriors  from  his  body  he  gives  up 
the  fight. 

If,  now,  we  observe  the  line  of  development,  we  shall 
see  why  physical  courage  was  at  its  height  among  the 
lower  orders.  In  these  life  fairly  swarms,  while  the  means 
for  its  maintenance,  apart  from  other  forms  of  life,  are 
wanting.  We  have,  therefore,  the  alternative  presented 
to  the  three  men  of  Bristol  city;  “Us  must  eat  we.” 
All  life,  indeed,  subsists  upon  life,  but  here  there  are  no 
removes,  no  disguises.  It  is  a direct  and  square  contest 
between  two  individuals  as  to  which  can  and  will  eat 
the  other.  Even  if  the  weaker  should  escape  for  a time 
through  flight  or  concealment,  his  necessities  drive  him 
to  attack  another.  Ultimately  the  strong  will  be  pitted 
against  the  strong. 

The  food  supply  was  for  a long  time  almost  the  sole 
question,  and  remained  so  long  after  the  advent  of  man. 
It  is  only  in  very  recent  times  that  any  demand  arose  for 
clothing  or  for  shelter  other  than  that  which  nature  fur- 
nished ready  made.  Eor  an  immeasurable  period  the 
activities  of  the  globe  were  directed  to  two  objects  only, 
— the  getting  of  food  on  the  one  hand,  and  to  escape 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HEROISM 


17 


being  converted  into  food  on  the  other.  Life  was  the 
stake,  and  to  win  was  to  use  skillfully  all  the  means  pro- 
vided and  to  fight  to  the  bitter  end.  The  will  to  sustain 
the  pain,  fatigue,  uncertainty,  and  frightful  alternatives 
must  be  supported  by  what  we  may  call  absolute  physical 
courage.  Probably  it  was  entirely  indifferent  to  danger 
because  wholly  unconscious  of  it.  It  shrank  at  no  con- 
sequence because  it  perceived  none.  Combat  was  a mere 
commonplace,  a function.  Some  mentality  there  must 
have  been  from  the  start,  but  no  suggestion  of  a moral 
sense.  To  kill  another  for  food  was  just  as  much  a 
matter  of  course  as  it  is  for  the  housewife  to  cook  the 
oatmeal  for  breakfast.  Perhaps  it  should  not  be  called 
courage,  as  there  is  nothing  in  the  nature  of  man  exactly 
corresponding  to  it.  But  it  cannot  be  denied  that  it  is 
the  raw  material  out  of  which  physical  courage  in  man 
has  been  evolved.  It  adapted  itself  to  existing  condi- 
tions, as  it  has  in  man.  It  is  true,  too,  that  in  proportion 
as  courage  in  man  has  approached  this  pure  and  unquali- 
fied animal  daring,  — the  instinctive  response  to  appetite, 
— it  has  gained  the  greatest  respect  and  applause. 

Without  attempting  to  follow  the  steps  of  its  develop- 
ment, let  us  come  to  a much  later  period,  where  we  find  it 
divided  broadly  into  two  classes,  — the  carnivora  and  her- 
bivora  among  mammals, — with  a like  distinction  among 
birds,  insects,  and  other  creatures.  The  flesh  eaters 
retain  their  ferocity  almost  in  its  primal  vigor,  but  modi- 
fied by  experience  and  adapted  to  the  changed  conditions. 
Almost  their  sole  mission  in  life  is  to  seize  and  devour 
the  vegetable  eaters.  The  mechanism  which  fits  them  for 
this  at  the  same  time  provides  them  a formidable  defense 


l8  THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 

against  attack.  They  do  not,  therefore,  prey  on  each 
other,  as  a rule,  — though  they  fight  for  other  reasons, — 
and  in  general  beyond  the  family  we  do  not  find  them 
organized  either  for  attack  or  defense. 

The  herbivora  also  subsist  upon  life,  but  in  a form 
which  probably  experiences  no  pain,  and  which  cannot 
escape,  and  offers  no  active  resistance.  The  mechanism 
which  enables  them  to  secure  and  masticate  their  food  is 
nearly  useless  for  defense.  They  must,  therefore,  avoid 
attack  through  the  keenness  of  their  senses,  by  conceal- 
ment, by  simulation,  by  swiftness  of  motion,  and  by 
endurance.  Some  of  them  have  developed  somewhat  for- 
midable weapons,  but  in  general  inadequate  for  individual 
defense  against  the  carnivora. 

It  would  be,  perhaps,  a misuse  of  language  to  say  that 
an  animal  shows  its  courage  by  running  away  and  avoid- 
ing a fatal  combat.  Let  us  observe,  nevertheless,  that  it 
has  accomplished  all  that  it  could  have  done  even  by  a 
successful  combat.  It  could  not  eat  or  in  any  way  make 
use  of  its  antagonist.  It  is  altogether  a question  of 
adapting  means  to  ends.  It  is  the  old  problem  in  a dif- 
ferent form.  Strength,  cutting  and  tearing  teeth,  beak, 
claws,  talons,  compete  with  swift  wing  and  foot,  with  con- 
cealment, alertness,  and  position  of  advantage.  For  these 
defenseless  creatures  to  engage  in  voluntary  combat  with 
their  pursuers  would  show  complete  misconception  as  to 
their  powers  or  complete  indifference  to  safety.  It  would 
be  to  act  without  motive,  there  being  no  conceivable 
object  to  be  gained.  It  would  result  in  the  swift  de- 
struction not  only  of  their  species,  but  also  of  those  who 
prey  upon  them.  From  the  biological  point  of  view. 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HEROISM 


19 


the  action  of  the  so-called  timid  creature  is  entitled 
to  just  as  much  admiration  as  that  of  the  flesh  eater. 
Both,  doubtless,  act  upon  instinct,  developed  by  heredity 
through  countless  generations,  until  it  is  almost  auto- 
matic and  infallible.  That  the  flesh  eater  is  oftener  the 
winner  means  only  that  his  class  is  perpetuated  where 
otherwise  it  would  perish.  It  is  simply  in  the  order  of 
things.  The  one  who  escapes  by  avoiding  conflict  does 
not  show  a higher  intelligence  than  his  adversary,  but 
he  shows  no  less.  Each  uses  such  means  as  he  has  for 
his  own  preservation,  and  neither  probably  has  any  pride 
or  emotion  beyond  bare  content  with  the  end  achieved. 
I do  not  suppose  the  deer  brags  because  he  has  out- 
run the  wolf,  nor  the  lion  when  he  has  carried  off  a cow. 
It  is  a mere  function. 

Nevertheless,  we  And  among  these  grass  eaters  a new 
principle  coming  in,  destined  at  a later  stage  to  be 

A lever  to  uplift  the  earth 

And  roll  it  in  another  course. 

It  is  not  quite  the  beginning  of  the  principle  of  com- 
bination, but  it  is  the  beginning  of  society  as  distin- 
guished from  the  family.  The  power  of  organization  and 
associated  effort  is  brought  into  the  problem  of  life.  In 
some  cases,  as  with  the  buffalo,  this  is  fairly  adequate 
against  all  foes  but  man.  Where  no  active  resistance 
can  be  put  forth,  the  security  is  greatly  increased  by 
having  many  individuals  on  the  watch  against  a common 
danger ; and  this  was  brought  to  a still  higher  degree  of 
efficiency  by  having  certain  animals  posted  as  sentries 
while  the  others  fed  or  slept. 


20 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


Following  this  organization  for  purpose  of  defense, 
probably,  — though  they  may  have  been  contemporane- 
ous or  even  antecedent,  — we  find  a few  cases  of  combi- 
nation for  offensive  purposes,  as  with  the  jackals,  the 
wolves,  and  the  dogs.  These  are  individually  weak  as 
against  some  of  the  creatures  on  which  they  must  depend 
for  food.  Possibly  this  is  necessary  for  protection  against 
still  more  powerful  flesh  eaters.  There  is  no  traceable 
moral  element  and  no  regard  for  consequences.  There 
is  no  sympathy  with  the  victim  and  no  hatred.  There 
is  ferocity  and  implacability  ; but  this  is  a part  of  the 
game.  It  is  a question  of  getting  a meal  with  the  small- 
est cost  in  fatigue  and  pain.  We  do,  indeed,  see  among 
the  cats  a sort  of  sardonic  humor,  perhaps  delight,  in  the 
sufferings  of  their  victims,  manifesting  itself  as  play. 

Now,  in  the  organization  we  have  noticed  in  both  these 
classes,  some  sort  of  leadership  is  a necessity.  The  indi- 
vidual that  has  shown  the  greatest  capacity  for  offense  or 
defense  becomes  the  leader.  The  qualification  is  deter- 
mined by  actual  trial,  in  contest  with  his  possible  rivals. 
If  he  is  not  glorified  as  a hero,  it  is  because  the  feeling 
of  admiration  is  still  undeveloped.  At  any  rate,  he  gets 
all  he  could  possibly  ask,  and  all  that  his  community  has 
to  bestow.  In  the  contests  which  have  settled  his  right 
to  the  leadership  he  has  displayed  just  as  much  courage 
as  the  lion  and  tiger  in  theirs. 

When  man  appeared  on  the  earth,  we  may  say  with 
confidence,  he  did  not  differ  much  from  his  near  relatives. 
He  had  the  instinct  of  the  herbivora  for  combination  for 
the  purpose  of  defense,  and  of  the  wolf  and  jackal  for 
attack.  He  united  the  characteristics  of  both  classes. 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HEROISM 


21 


his  food  also  coming  from  both.  In  the  beginning  he 
was  in  the  main  a flesh  eater,  but  in  course  of  time  his 
food  came  more  and  more  to  consist  of  grains,  vegetables, 
and  nuts.  The  procurement  of  food,  at  the  outset,  con- 
stituted almost  his  sole  employment.  His  contests  with 
the  great  carnivora  were  waged  with  a double  purpose, 
not  only  to  avoid  being  eaten,  but  to  add  to  his  own  food 
supply.  With  his  unaided  physical  powers,  hands  and 
feet  without  claws,  teeth  unfitted  for  seizing  and  tearing, 
he  was  a feeble  creature  as  compared  with  the  cave  bear 
and  lion.  Under  these  conditions  his  intelligence  showed 
him  the  utility  of  combination.  Altruism  had  no  part  in 
it,  probably,  this  being  no  more  than  germinal  in  his 
organization.  There  was  scarcely  a glimmer  of  moral 
sense.  There  was  no  individual  right  of  property,  no 
sympathy  with  suffering,  no  remorse  for  wrongdoing, 
as  there  was  no  sense  of  right  and  wrong ; no  idea  of  a 
superior  power  approving  or  condemning  an  act,  no  fore- 
sight, no  dread  of  future  retribution.  His  tools  or  weapons 
were  such  things  as  he  could  grasp  with  his  hands,  — 
stones  or  clubs.  It  was  an  absolute  necessity  that  his 
group  act  in  concert.  After  a while  he  learned  how  to 
fashion  rude  cutting  and  thrusting  implements,  knives, 
hatchets,  spears  of  wood  charred  and  hardened  or  tipped 
with  bone  or  stone,  and,  later  still,  arrows.  With  his 
power  to  grasp,  wield,  and  hurl  these  primitive  weapons, 
his  cunning  and  combined  effort,  he  often  overcame  his 
most  formidable  antagonist,  as  evidenced  by  the  bones 
remaining  in  the  caves  where  he  dwelt.  There  was  great 
courage  as  well  as  skill  in  the  use  of  his  limited  equipment, 
while  in  a great  proportion  of  his  contests  he  lost  his  life. 


22 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


Into  the  leadership  of  this  primitive  community  — the 
term  “ drove  ” would  almost  equally  well  designate  it 
— the  best  man,  after  proving  his  title  to  that  distinc- 
tion by  contests  with  his  fellows,  was  inducted.  The 
reward  was  the  respect  of  the  males  and  the  admiration 
of  the  females.  Three  factors  enter  into  the  fitness  of 
this  man  for  leadership,  — a high  degree  of  physical  per- 
fection to  insure  the  requisite  strength,  agility,  and 
endurance,  a high  degree  of  animal  daring,  and  skill  in 
employing  the  resources  at  his  command.  These  are  all 
directed  to  strictly  utilitarian  ends.  There  is  not  yet 
any  moral  quality  and,  apart  from  their  adaptation  to 
desirable  ends,  nothing  to  admire.  His  courage  is  not 
different  from  that  of  any  other  animal,  and  because  no 
longer  the  only  or  even  chief  means  of  accomplishing  his 
ends,  it  must  be  less  absolute  than  among  the  lower 
animals.  The  usefulness  of  the  physical  organism  which 
fits  him  for  the  work  he  has  to  accomplish  makes  it  to 
our  eyes  the  standard  of  physical  beauty  ; but  whether  it 
would  be  so  to  a mind  entirely  outside  and  uninfluenced 
by  this  consideration  we  cannot  say.  Every  race,  in  fact, 
adheres  to  its  own  standards,  and  the  monstrosities  of 
the  one  are  the  adornments  and  ideals  of  another.  The 
hippopotamus,  we  must  suppose,  is  as  beautiful  to  his  kind 
as  man  to  his.  Except  for  his  usefulness,  there  is  no  reason 
to  think  the  hero  was  agreeable,  or  that  he  was  held  in 
any  high  esteem.  On  his  part  there  is  no  generosity,  no 
devotion  to  the  common  good,  except  as  this  contributed 
to  his  own  safety  or  gratification.  All  in  all,  we  must  con- 
clude that  heroes  were  a disagreeable  necessity  and,  by 
our  standards,  gratuitously  and  abnormally  offensive. 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HEROISM 


23 


From  the  first  we  may  suppose  that  men  made  some 
small  provision  for  their  future  wants,  as  even  the  dog 
accumulates  his  heap  of  bones,  the  squirrel  his  store  of 
nuts,  and  bees  and  ants  their  treasures.  Man  went  a 
step  farther.  He  discovered  that  certain  animals  could 
be  domesticated  and  so  preserved  for  an  indefinite  time 
for  some  future  need,  and  that  grains  and  vegetables 
could  be  multiplied  by  cultivation.  But  when  he  had 
thus  begun  these  small  accumulations  one  group  of  men 
immediately  became  an  object  of  envy  to  another.  Man 
has  no  more  relish  for  persistent  application  than  any 
other  animal.  Labor  under  all  conditions  is  irksome,  and 
under  those  then  prevailing  must  have  been  well-nigh 
intolerable.  Men  preferred  the  stress  and  danger  of 
battle  with  the  chance  of  wounds  and  death  to  pro- 
tracted and  inglorious  toil.  No  right  in  property  was  yet 
recognized.  It  was  entirely  legitimate  for  another  group 
of  men  to  possess  themselves  of  these  stores  if  they  could. 
Those  who  had  accumulated  them  might  hold  them  if 
they  could.  The  group  thus  became  the  new  unit,  and 
contests  were  between  the  latter  rather  than  between 
individuals,  as  in  the  earlier  times.  The  strong  appropri- 
ated the  weak,  feeding  upon  them  literally  as  well  as 
figuratively. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  my  purpose  to  trace  the  indus- 
trial history  of  man,  or  the  development  of  what  we  call 
moral  ideas,  one  of  the  first  of  these  being  probably  the 
recognition  of  the  right  of  property,  individual  and  com- 
munal. Somewhere  in  their  progress  men  came  to  realize 
that  it  cost  less  to  produce  what  they  needed  than  to 
take  it  from  their  neighbors.  They  were,  indeed,  quite 


24 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


ready  for  the  latter  whenever  a specially  tempting  oppor- 
tunity presented  itseK  ; but  more  and  more  they  tended 
to  some  systematic  industry  as  a regular  and  sure  depend- 
ence. With  the  increase  of  experience  and  knowledge  of 
the  resources  of  nature,  production  has  called  for  a con- 
stantly diminishing  expenditure  of  fatigue  and  toil.  The 
communities,  on  the  other  hand,  have  grown  larger,  partly 
through  natural  increase  and  partly  through  fusion  of 
the  groups.  Just  as  individuals  found  security  against 
a stronger  individual  by  combination,  so  a small  group 
found  it  against  a larger  one  by  combining  with  a third. 
At  last  we  find  great  nations,  occupying  great  territories 
and  developing  their  resources.  War  has  become  a much 
more  serious  matter,  and  cannot  be  entered  upon  without 
long  preparation  and  at  vast  expense,  so  great  that  the 
winner  is  still  a loser.  Meantime  the  idea  of  personal 
and  property  rights  has  been  growing,  and  the  rights 
themselves  have  been  well  defined.  Following,  but  far 
behind  these,  as  we  should  expect,  comes  the  recognition 
of  the  rights  of  the  communities  among  each  other. 
Treaties,  compacts,  alliances,  understandings  of  various 
kinds  are  entered  into, — from  selfish  or  prudential  motives 
in  the  beginning,  it  may  be  conceded,  but  these  finally 
become  the  basis  of  international  law.  Primarily  this 
was  to  the  advantage  of  the  weaker  state,  but  it  eventu- 
ally became  equally  advantageous  to  the  stronger,  as  it 
furnished  a standard  of  conduct  and  a basis  for  the  set- 
tlement of  disputes  more  economical  than  war.  Mean- 
time the  principle  of  altruism,  which  in  some  incipient 
form  existed  far  down  in  the  scale  of  life,  has  been  devel- 
oping, until  at  last  it  is  very  active  and  far-reaching. 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HEROISM 


25 


The  weak  and  unfortunate  are  no  longer  eaten,  but  trans- 
ferred to  hospitals,  asylums,  and  almshouses,  and  sup- 
ported at  the  common  expense.  Wars  are  dreadfully 
oppressive  and  burdensome  financially,  but  are  waged  at 
an  ever-lessening  destruction  of  life.  They  are  not  car- 
ried on  in  the  old  spirit  at  all.  The  wounded  are  not 
put  to  death,  but  treated  by  antiseptics  and  cared  for  as 
tenderly  as  the  circumstances  will  permit.  Captives  are 
not  reduced  to  servitude.  Instead  of  wasting  provinces, 
destroying  cities  and  sowing  them  with  salt,  private  prop- 
. erty  is  protected,  at  least  in  theory,  and  the  public  prop- 
erty preserved,  especially  the  things  which  pertain  to  the 
higher  civilization,  such  as  libraries,  schools,  museums, 
hospitals,  and  art  collections.  Infants  do  not  have  their 
heads  dashed  against  walls,  nor  are  they  tossed  in  sport 
from  spear-point  to  spear-point,  as  in  the  old  “strenuous  ” 
days  so  beloved  and  mourned  by  some  of  our  latter-day 
statesmen.  Women  are  not  outraged.  Shops  are  not 
looted,  but  stand  open,  the  merchants  calmly  dispens- 
ing their  wares  to  the  victors  at  extravagant  prices. 
Consider  the  significance  of  a general,  after  a battle, 
borrowing  ambulances  of  his  enemy,  as  was  done  in 
the  South  African  War.  And  now,  at  the  end  of  nine- 
teen centuries  of  Christianity,  we  have  seen  the  most 
remarkable  proposition  in  the  history  of  the  race  put 
forth,  not  by  some  feeble  nation,  trembling  before  the 
threat  of  annihilation  by  a stronger,  but  by  the  most 
powerful  ruler  in  the  world,  to  form  a tribunal  in  which 
all  international  disputes  and  misunderstandings  shall 
be  determined  upon  principles  of  right  and  equity,  — in 
brief,  that  the  golden  rule  be  recognized  by  nations  as 


26 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


well  as  individuals.  This  proposition,  thus  put  forth,  we 
have  seen  welcomed  and  favorably  acted  upon  by  the 
nations. 

Now,  let  us  observe  in  outline  the  development  of  life 
from  its  emergence  to  its  highest  manifestation.  First, 
the  condition  where  each  individual  was  in  active  antag- 
onism to  every  other,  and  where  the  victor  became  the 
sepulcher  of  the  vanquished  ; there  was  no  composition 
and  no  alternative.  Second,  an  element  of  intelligence 
which  forecast  the  chances  of  success,  — prudence  or 
cowardice,  if  we  so  choose  to  designate  it,  — taking  the 
direction  of  concealment,  flight,  or  avoidance  of  the  pres- 
ence of  the  stronger,  — cunning  or  strategy.  Third,  the 
organization  of  the  weaker  creatures  against  a stronger, 
for  mutual  defense.  Fourth,  organization  for  purposes 
of  more  efficient  or  economical  production,  in  which  we 
may  include  combinations  like  those  of  the  wolves  and 
dogs  to  capture  game  too  powerful  or  too  fleet  for 
a single  individual.  Fifth,  organization  of  the  weaker 
communities  against  a stronger.  Sixth,  the  coalescence 
of  all  communities  into  one  large  one  for  the  regulation 
of  national  conduct,  these  large  communities  commonly 
determined  as  to  their  limits  by  some  physical  features, 
as  mountains,  deserts,  or  bodies  of  water,  separating  them 
more  or  less  from  other  nations.  Seventh,  intercourse 
and  trade  relations  between  nations,  and  a code  of  rules 
recognizing  and  enforcing  the  rights  of  each. 

Throughout  this  life  history  of  the  world  physical 
courage  has  survived,  but  at  each  step  it  has  undergone 
modification,  and  it  has  lost  in  importance.  At  a very 
early  stage  cunning  and  skill  were  as  indispensable  as 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HEROISM 


27 


mere  daring.  Neither  of  them  in  the  beginning  had  any 
distinctive  moral  quality.  Even  in  the  heroic  age,  as 
sung  by  Homer,  Ulysses  received  as  much  praise  for 
his  “much  planning”  as  for  his  strength  and  daring. 
During  that  immensely  long  period,  then,  when  the  life 
of  the  world  was  dependent  upon  what  may  be  called  the 
natural  supply  and  was  unable  to  exploit  the  resources 
of  the  world  or  to  multiply  or  add  to  the  existing  prod- 
ucts, an  immense  value  was  set  upon  physical  courage 
as  a condition  precedent  to  living  at  all.  The  conduct 
of  man  as  well  as  the  actions  of  the  lower  animals  was 
determined  by  a rigorous  necessity.  But  when  it  began 
to  dawn  upon  man  that  the  resources  of  nature  are  prac- 
tically unlimited,  and  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  help  our- 
selves, other  qualities  became  greatly  more  important 
than  courage.  Observation,  invention,  sagacity,  judg- 
ment, self-control,  patience,  persistence  became  the  all- 
important  factors.  While  the  food  question  was  still 
very  pressing,  the  supply  came  through  the  industry  of 
man  instead  of  through  the  destruction  of  wild  animals  or 
other  men.  Regular,  if  primitive  industries,  arose,  and 
rude  commerce  in  the  form  of  barter  was  found  easier  and 
more  economical  of  pain  and  labor  than  the  old  distribu- 
tion through  combat  and  plunder.  Foresight,  caution, 
shrewdness,  and  endurance  superseded  the  furious  spasms 
of  destructive  courage  which,  as  the  great  utility,  had 
been  the  one  thing  to  call  for  admiration.  The  humani- 
ties came  into  play.  Literature,  — at  first  as  folklore,  — 
music,  art,  architecture,  began  to  occupy  the  thoughts 
of  men.  The  superfluities  of  one  age  became  the  neces- 
sities of  the  next,  the  one  beginning  where  the  other 


28 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


left  off.  But  while  the  food  supply  will  always  be  impor- 
tant, since  life  cannot  be  long  maintained  upon  an  empty 
stomach,  the  channels  of  supply  are  now  so  regular  and 
definite,  the  deficiencies  of  one  region  so  easily  supplied 
by  the  surplus  of  another,  the  provision  for  the  weak 
and  unfortunate  so  abundant,  that  the  question  is  no 
longer  even  perplexing,  and  physical  courage  in  the  form 
of  its  earlier  manifestation  hardly  enters  into  the  prob- 
lem at  all.  Wars  are  no  longer  undertaken  through  any 
necessity,  but  through  jealousies,  misunderstandings, 
differences  in  political  and  religious  opinions  and  ideas 
of  honor.  Last  of  all,  we  see  nations  going  to  war  out 
of  a sentiment  which  they  persuade  themselves  is  sheer 
humanity.  Yet,  strange  to  say,  the  sentiment  which  has 
driven  a nation  to  war  shrinks  from  the  consequences 
entailed.  Most  of  us  will  remember  the  hysterical  shriek 
that  went  up  from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other 
when  Ensign  Bagley  and  four  other  men  were  killed,  the 
first  victims  on  our  side  of  a war  which  we  had  so  lightly 
undertaken  in  the  name  of  humanity.  That  it  meant 
killing  men  on  the  other  side  we  knew,  but  these  had  no 
right  to  live.  It  was  a kind  of  Sunday-school  work  in 
which  we  were  engaged,  in  which  God  was,  as  a matter 
of  course,  on  our  side.  But  the  killing  of  our  own  men 
— we  had  not  dreamed  of  anything  so  horrible.  How 
are  we  to  account  for  this  feeling  } Simply  that,  along- 
side of  vast  unreason,  selfishness,  and  prejudice,  the 
altruistic  spirit  fairly  dominates  the  world.  If  it  does 
not  extend  to  all,  it  extends,  at  least,  to  those  nearest 
us  and  those  to  whom  our  attention  is  directed.  It  is 
shown  in  thousands  of  ways  in  civil  life,  and  notably 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HEROISM 


29 


in  the  sympathy  for  those  who  have  committed  mon- 
strous crimes. 

In  order  to  see  how  insignificant  a factor  this  old  form 
of  physical  courage  has  become  in  modern  life,  we  need 
only  to  compare  the  condition  of  the  United  States  with 
the  conditions  existing  in  its  territory  at  the  time  of  the 
discovery  of  America.  Even  then  the  native  races  had 
traveled  as  far  from  the  cave  dwellers  as  we  have  from 
them.  The  population,  about  all  that  could  be  main- 
tained, did  not  reach  five  per  cent  of  ours.  There  was 
considerable  industry  and  some  commerce,  but  produc- 
tion in  proportion  to  the  effort  put  forth  was  very  small. 
Nearly  all  the  requisites  of  life,  food,  clothing,  and 
shelter,  were  derived  from  the  chase.  With  us,  fishing 
excepted,  this  is  too  small  to  be  reckoned.  With  the 
Indian,  every  male,  from  a very  early  age,  was  a warrior. 
With  us,  for  a whole  generation,  one  fourth  of  one  per 
cent  of  the  males  between  eighteen  and  forty-five  years 
of  age  were  sufficient  for  this  function.  The  Indians 
sometimes  had  a surfeit  of  food,  followed  by  enforced 
abstinence  and  great  suffering.  The  poorest  among  us 
enjoy  a higher  degree  of  average  comfort  than  the  abo- 
rigines under  the  most  favorable  circumstances.  There 
is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  our  population  can  be  multi- 
plied tenfold  with  a still  higher  average  of  comfort  than 
now.  If  we  consider  the  richness  and  complexity  of 
modern  life,  its  intellectual,  religious,  and  social  develop- 
ment, we  can  hardly  fail  to  see  that  the  old  destructive 
courage  is  nearly  eliminated  except  as  a mischief-maker. 
The  old-fashioned  strenuous  life  is  chiefly  a concern  to 
the  police.  Nine  times  out  of  ten  an  unusual  display  of 


30 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


physical  courage  lands  the  hero  of  it  in  jail.  How,  then, 
is  it  that  it  continues  to  hold  so  high  a place  in  the 
popular  estimate,  so  absurdly  outweighing  its  real  util- 
ity, calling  for  admiration  and  applause  a hundred  times 
its  due If  we  consider  attentively  the  phenomena  of 
life  development,  we  shall  observe  three  distinct  stages : 
first,  the  stage  of  simple  brute  courage ; second,  that  in 
which  mind,  chiefly  as  cunning,  formed  a large  element, 
finally  outweighing  entirely  the  brute  courage ; third, 
that  in  which  a moral  sentiment  has  been  a factor, 
finally  becoming  the  one  of  chief  importance.  They 
were  the  age  of  individual  antagonism,  of  communal 
antagonism,  and  of  combination.  No  hard-and-fast  line 
divides  them,  but  they  shade  into  each  other.  Each  has 
been  a great  utility  in  turn.  With  the  dawn  of  intelli- 
gence, physical  courage  did  not  disappear  nor  become 
unnecessary,  but  it  was  modified  to  suit  other  methods 
and  aims.  With  the  growth  of  the  moral  sentiment  the 
mental  element  was  not  diminished  in  importance,  but  it 
took  a new  direction.  For  the  development  of  modern 
life,  that  confidence  which  is  the  basis  of  all  associated 
effort  and  which  is  possible  only  under  well-defined 
moral  ideas  is  an  absolute  necessity.  But  in  each  stage 
the  attitude  and  habit  established  in  the  preceding  lingers 
long  after  its  use  has  disappeared  and  it  has  become  an 
obstacle  to  further  progress.  In  every  age  and  in  every 
man  there  remains  an  inheritance  of  the  past,  — in  habits, 
customs,  language,  opinions,  beliefs,  a vast  residuum  of 
the  outworn  and  inept.  In  each  stage  of  development 
life  has  adapted  itself  to  its  circumstances  as  well  as  it 
could.  These  three  characteristics  are  to  be  considered 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HEROISM 


31 


as  agencies,  pure  and  simple,  in  the  process  of  adapta- 
tion. Physical  courage  is  immensely  older  than  cunning 
or  strategy,  and  is  more  firmly  established.  Mentality 
is  older  than  the  moral  sentiment,  which  is  the  least 
stable  of  all,  though  it  is  the  indispensable  factor  in 
social  life. 

Now,  the  hero  worship  of  which  I speak  is  admiration 
for  physical  courage  exerted  skillfully,  that  is  cunningly, 
for  the  purpose  of  overcoming  an  opposing  physical 
force.  Admiration  is  a quality  which  has  perhaps  under- 
gone just  as  much  transformation  as  courage  itself,  but 
in  some  crude  form  we  must  suppose  that  it  was  awak- 
ened in  the  beginnings  of  life  at  the  display  of  animal 
daring,  the  one  supreme  necessity  to  existence.  Admi- 
ration for  skill,  strategy,  and  cunning  was  awakened  when 
these,  too,  were  a necessary  supplement  to  physical  cour- 
age. Now,  if  we  will  observe  primitive  races,  we  shall 
find  an  immense  degree  of  admiration  attached  to  cun- 
ning in  its  lower  forms.  To  accomplish  an  end  by  lying 
or  stealing  is  not  merely  permissible,  but  calls  for  vastly 
more  admiration  than  to  accomplish  the  same  end  by 
what  we  should  call  legitimate  methods.  With  ourselves 
it  is  still  held  that  all  things  are  fair  in  war  and  almost 
everything  in  politics.  Even  those  whom  we  regard  as 
enlightened  statesmen  do  not  hesitate,  where  an  advan- 
tage is  to  be  gained,  wholly  to  misrepresent  the  position 
of  an  opponent. 

These  lingering  characteristics  and  habits  of  a lower 
phase  of  life  we  call  survivals.  They  are  not  peculiar  to 
man,  but  exist  in  all  life.  We  need  only  to  go  to  our 
flocks  and  herds  to  find  them  in  full  vigor,  where  it  is 


32 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


very  clear  that  they  are  no  longer  useful,  but  the  con- 
trary. These  creatures  under  domestication  are  provided 
for,  selfishly  of  course,  by  man,  and  secured  from  nearly 
all  dangers  to  which  they  were  exposed  in  their  wild 
state,  except  danger  from  man  himself,  against  which  the 
surviving  habits  or  characteristics  are  of  no  avail. 

Observe,  now,  the  admiration  which  the  hens  in  a 
barnyard  pay  to  the  ruling  lord.  If  the  young  cocks  do 
not  love  him,  they  treat  him  with  due  deference  and 
simulate  a profound  respect  for  his  authority.  But  by 
and  by  a stranger  appears,  or  a young  cock  growing  up 
comes  to  recognize  his  own  strength  and  “heroic  soul.” 
A fight  ensues,  and  the  leader  is  vanquished.  It  is  a 
battle  royal,  stubborn  and  protracted.  So  far  as  their 
means  extend,  the  combatants  are  as  ferocious  as  birds 
of  prey.  They  do  not  yield  at  a few  scratches,  nor  flinch 
from  frightful  wounds.  Torn,  bedraggled,  bleeding,  the 
sometime  master  hurls  himself,  a fiery  billet,  upon  his 
foe,  striking  with  beak  and  claw  until  utter  physical 
exhaustion  paralyzes  any  further  effort,  when  he  slinks 
away,  overwhelmed  with  mortification,  to  die,  perhaps, 
in  a corner.  Do  his  devoted  admirers  go  to  him  to 
soothe  his  griefs  or  comfort  him  in  his  pain  ? Not  at 
all.  They  do  not  wait  for  him  to  get  out  of  sight  before 
transferring  their  allegiance  to  the  new  lord  paramount. 
Perhaps  they  feel  no  contempt  for  the  deposed  ruler.  It 
is  all  a mere  matter  of  course. 

Now,  if  we  account  for  hero  worship  among  our  do- 
mestic animals  as  a survival  long  after  the  hero  himself 
has  ceased  to  subserve  any  useful  end,  how  shall  we 
account  for  similar  phenomena  among  ourselves  ? How 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HEROISM 


33 


do  we  explain  the  sudden  dethroning  of  a popular  idol 
who  commits  an  act  of  questionable  taste  ? Has  it  come 
to  the  point  with  us  that  good  taste  is  more  desirable 
than  heroism  ? 

So  far  I have  dwelt  upon  that  form  of  physical  courage 
which  enters  into  the  definition  of  heroism,  that  is,  the 
courage  which  incites  to  combat,  offensive  or  defensive, 
with  one’s  fellows.  There  is  a form  of  courage  much 
harder  to  maintain  because  unattended  by  excitement 
and  unstimulated  by  applause.  Many  of  the  occupations 
of  modern  life  are  extremely  dangerous,  and  but  for 
coolness  and  caution,  qualities  which  have  nothing  to  do 
with  courage,  they  would  be  far  more  dangerous  than 
they  are  now.  We  do  not  think  of  a man  as  a hero  be- 
cause he  is  engaged  in  driving  a wagon  loaded  with  nitro- 
glycerin, or  in  shooting  oil  wells,  or  working  in  a powder 
mill.  To  the  spectator  a man  on  the  top  of  a ten-  or 
twenty-story  steel  framework  seems  to  be  in  imminent 
danger,  but  with  the  workman  it  is  entirely  a matter  of 
experience  and  training.  He  knows  perfectly  the  dan- 
ger of  any  forgetfulness  or  want  of  caution ; but  he  does 
not  mean  to  forget.  Because  of  his  caution  the  chance  of 
falling  from  a twenty-story  building  is  much  less  than 
from  a ten-foot  scaffold ; but  the  consequences  of  the  lat- 
ter might  be  less  serious.  So  in  the  manipulation  of  any 
of  the  giant  forces  of  the  universe,  but  for  his  vigilance 
and  prudence  man  would  be  crushed  as  a moth.  In  all 
the  occupations  classed  as  hazardous  and  extra-hazardous, 
while  courage  is  necessary,  the  old  impulsive,  uncalculat- 
ing, combative  sort  not  only  has  no  place  but  would  con- 
stitute a chief  danger.  Even  in  war  it  now  plays  a very 


34 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


subordinate  part.  The  battle  belongs  not  to  the  brave  but 
to  the  skillful  employment  of  the  tremendous  enginery  of 
modern  warfare.  No  one  can  doubt  that  the  Spaniards  in 
our  late  war  were  as  brave  as  our  own  men. 

There  are  a few  cases  where  we  accord  a meas- 
ure of  applause  to  courageous  deeds  in  civil  life,  but 
never  with  quite  the  zeal  and  enthusiasm  with  which 
we  accord  it  to  the  military  hero.  For  a Jim  Bludsoe, 
who  holds  the  nose  of  a boat  against  the  bank  until  the 
passengers  escape,  himself  going  down  in  the  blazing 
ruin,  we  can  spare  a little  admiration,  as  also  to  the 
fireman  who  with  scaling  ladder  climbs  the  lofty  wall  to 
save  a life.  It  is  a languid  approval  in  comparison  with 
the  enthusiastic  applause  we  should  lavish  upon  an  action 
calling  for  lesser  fortitude,  made  in  conflict  with  the 
intent  to  take  life.  Such  as  it  is,  it  is  a late  develop- 
ment, growing  out  of  the  altruistic  spirit,  and  in  the  old 
strenuous  days  would  have  been  looked  upon  as  evidence 
of  weakness  or  a disordered  mind. 

But  while  in  the  popular  mind  the  old  hero  worship 
holds  its  place  with  wonderful  persistence,  there  are 
many  things  to  indicate  that  it  is  growing  confused  and 
no  longer  infallibly  follows  the  old  ideals.  The  stoker 
in  the  hold  of  a battleship  runs  as  much  risk  as  the 
admiral  on  the  deck,  and  his  services  are  an  indispensable 
factor  in  the  result  achieved.  The  men  in  the  ranks  run 
vastly  greater  risks  than  the  general  in  the  rear,  who 
plans  the  whole  movement  of  battle.  It  is  not  an  essen- 
tial, therefore,  that  the  hero  exhibit  great  personal  daring 
or  prowess;  so  that  even  now  a higher  value  is  set  upon 
intelligence  than  upon  mere  physical  courage.  It  ought 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HEROISM 


35 


to  be  an  easy  step  to  the  appreciation  of  that  intelligence 
which  is  directed  to  altogether  useful  and  beneficent  ends, 
such  as  its  relative  importance  demands. 

From  what  has  been  said  it  ought  to  be  clear  that 
heroism  as  embodied  in  the  traditional  sense  and  popular 
ideal  is  already  archaic.  The  unreasoning,  instinctive, 
brute  courage,  ready  to  fight  without  cause  and  without 
caution,  is  no  longer  a useful  quality.  Even  in  war  it  has 
lost  its  value.  What  is  wanted  now  is  coolness,  endur- 
ance, patience,  steadiness.  There  is  little  field  for  the 
old  spectacular  fighting  of  man  against  man.  Skill  in 
the  use  of  weapons  of  precision  at  long  range,  concerted 
movements,  knowledge  of  the  topography  of  a country, 
quickness  in  seizing  the  points  of  advantage,  the  adop- 
tion of  the  best  means  of  concealment,  not  only  of 
intended  movements  but  of  the  individual  combatants, 
the  taking  advantage  of  cover,  all  these  things  fall  within 
what  we  have  noted  as  the  second  development  of  life, 
prudence,  mentality,  and  cunning,  — a form  of  what  men 
once  called  cowardice.  The  South  African  War  served 
to  demonstrate  the  futility  of  courage  alone.  To  rush 
men  across  a fire-swept  zone  against  a protected  enemy 
is  now  seen  to  be  mere  madness  and  self -destroying  folly. 

Finally,  we  shall  make  a great  mistake  if  we  allow  our- 
selves to  undervalue  physical  courage.  It  will  always  be 
a necessity  in  the  life  of  man.  Situations  will  always 
arise  where  men  must  face  danger,  taking  their  lives,  as 
it  were,  in  their  hands  ; but  the  application  of  courage 
in  the  old  methods  and  to  the  old  ends  is  becoming  year 
by  year  obsolete.  Reason  is  taking  the  place  of  a blind 
appetency,  and  science  is  superseding  brute  force.  The 


36 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


best  man  now  is  not  the  strongest,  nor  even  the  one 
most  skillful  in  wielding  destructive  weapons.  What  we 
call  moral  courage  has  become  a great  factor  even  in 
war ; but  its  uses  in  peace  are  a thousandfold  more 
important. 

There  are  those  who  sigh  over  the  changed  conditions 
and  insist  that  the  old  rugged  strength  and  stout  heart 
were  better  than  the  intelligent  but  relatively  weak  man 
of  our  day.  They  gibe  at  the  complexity  and  refinements 
of  modern  life  as  needless  burdens  and  insist  that  condi- 
tions are  not  on  the  whole  improved.  It  is  not  necessary 
to  argue  the  point.  Many  insist  that  life  is  not  worth 
the  living  in  any  case.  The  troglodyte,  mumbling  over 
the  raw  bones  of  the  aurochs,  never  stopped  to  discuss 
this  matter;  and  no  pessimist  would  argue  the  desira- 
bility of  going  back  to  cave  dwelling.  Perhaps  life  never 
was  worth  living;  but  it  certainly  was  the  less  so  the 
farther  we  go  back  in  the  story  of  the  human  race.  Some 
centuries  hence  it  may  be  worth  a great  deal  more  than 
now.  There  may  be  a fourth  stage  of  development,  upon 
which  we  have  already  made  a small  advance.  Reason, 
in  a larger  sense,  a truer  and  wider  perception  of  the 
relations  of  things,  a better  understanding  of  the  utilities 
and  capacities  of  nature,  will  take  possession  of  man,  and 
will  receive  that  admiration  which  has  in  turn  been 
bestowed  upon  physical  courage,  cunning,  and  moral 
virtues.  The  coming  man  will  be  brave,  but  his  bravery 
will  be  directed  to  wholly  different  objects  and  aims. 
He  will  bear  pain  better  than  now.  He  will  be  calm  in 
the  presence  of  danger,  and  accept  death,  when  it  comes, 
without  fear  or  repining,  as  a part  of  the  order  of  nature, 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HEROISM 


37 


a part  of  his  environment  against  which  it  would  be  idle 
to  contend,  and  as  subserving  higher  uses  in  the  process 
of  the  development  of  the  race,  through  the  removal 
of  that  which  has  fulfilled  its  mission  and  has  become 
obsolete. 


Ill 


THE  ETHICS  OF  PATRIOTISM 

Men  differ  upon  almost  every  conceivable  subject. 
They  are  vehement  in  their  contention,  on  the  one  hand, 
that  this  political  party  or  that  is  actuated  by  high  and 
holy  motives,  and,  on  the  other,  that  it  is  bent  upon  the 
ruin  and  degradation  of  the  country.  Theological  dis- 
putes are  acrimonious  in  the  extreme;  and  men  wax 
valiant  in  fight  over  questions  of  grammar.  There  are 
men,  though  not  many  to  avow  it,  who  doubt  the  pro- 
priety and  binding  force  of  each  one  of  the  ten  com- 
mandments. But  throughout  all  our  borders  probably 
we  should  find  hardly  a man  who  would  hesitate  an 
instant  to  say  that  patriotism  is  a duty.  If  asked 
“ What  is  patriotism ” the  very  babes  and  sucklings 
would  answer,  “It  is  the  love  of  country.”  Those  who 
are  a little  past  the  suckling  period  would  doubtless 
add,  “ and  devotion  to  its  interests.”  I make  no  objec- 
tion to  the  definition  and  do  not  know  that  I can  give  a 
better ; but  I desire  to  say  that  it  is  a pure  abstraction. 
When  we  translate  it  into  terms  of  action  or  feeling  under 
concrete  conditions,  plenty  of  difficulties  will  arise.  In 
what  sense  is  it  a duty  to  love  one’s  country  ? 

It  is  the  land  of  my  birth,  where  I have  always  lived. 
My  friends,  my  interests,  my  associations  are  all  here. 
If  I should  go  alone  to  a foreign  land,  for  a short  time, 

38 


THE  ETHICS  OF  PATRIOTISM 


39 


whatever  the  desire  or  inducement,  I should  very  likely 
be  lonely  and  homesick.  Every  immigrant  has  doubtless 
had  that  feeling  upon  setting  foot  upon  our  shores, 
strongly  as  he  might  believe  that  his  expatriation  was  to 
his  advantage.  Is  this  feeling  patriotism } If  so,  is  it 
American  patriotism  ? 

There  may  be  other  reasons  for  loving  my  country. 
It  is  a good  place  for  the  manufacture  of  steel  rails, 
or  tin  plate,  or  buttons,  or  twine ; and  the  government, 
grateful  to  me  for  building  up  a new  industry,  by  its 
legislation  raises  the  price  of  these  products  for  my  ben- 
efit. Conditions  are  favorable  for  carrying  on  a big  wheat 
farm  or  a department  store.  I am  an  officer  in  the  army 
or  navy,  an  employe  in  the  civil  service,  well  supported 
at  the  public  expense.  There  is  freedom  of  speech,  and 
I may  abuse  my  neighbor  as  much  as  I like,  if  he  is  not 
a bigger  man  than  I,  or  my  language  does  not  trench 
upon  what  is  actionable  at  law.  There  is  religious  lib- 
erty, and  I can  go  to  any  church,  or  stay  away,  as  I 
like,  and  am  exempt  from  tithes.  These  are  excellent 
reasons  for  loving  my  country;  but  do  they  make  me 
a patriot  ? 

The  last  half  of  the  definition  will,  upon  examination, 
be  found  equally  hazy  and  ambiguous.  What,  for  exam- 
ple, does  “devotion  to  its  interests”  require  of  me  in 
a war  like  the  late  conflict  in  the  Philippines  ? To  pay  my 
taxes,  of  course,  and  put  stamps  on  my  bank  checks ; even 
the  publicans  and  sinners  must  do  that.  But  what  must 
I say,  and  how  must  I feel  ? Must  I believe  that  it  is  a 
glorious  war,  born  of  the  loftiest  and  most  disinterested 
motives  ? Must  I hold  that  wherever  our  flag  has  once 


40 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


been  raised  it  must  remain  ? Do  the  interests  of  my 
country  mean  only  or  chiefly  its  material  advantages  ? If 
so,  must  I limit  myself  to  the  immediate  results,  or  shall 
I consider  those  which  may  be  looked  for  in  the  future  ? 
Is  the  traditional  love  of  freedom  and  justice  to  be  taken 
into  the  account  ? What  weight  shall  I allow  to  political 
ideals,  to  historic  precedent,  to  the  effect  of  war  upon 
the  public  morals  ? What  to  the  sudden  blazing  up  of  a 
military  spirit,  a recrudescence  of  the  barbaric  instincts, 
the  increase,  likely  long  to  continue,  of  army  and  navy, 
with  their  burden  of  taxation  ? What  to  the  growing 
disposition  to  interfere  in  the  affairs  of  other  nations  ? 

I am  not  here  discussing  any  of  these  questions  in 
themselves,  but  merely  showing  that  before  the  “best 
interests  of  our  country  ” can  be  determined  all  these 
must  receive  their  proper  answer.  The  proposition  which 
we  had  thought  so  self-evident  is  more  complex  than  we 
supposed. 

But  quite  oblivious  to  ahy  of  these  limitations,  the 
popular  conception  of  patriotism,  concretely  stated,  is 
simplicity  itself.  It  is  that  it  requires  us,  off  and  on,  to 
hate  all  foreign  governments,  especially  such  as  are  called 
monarchies,  and  to  pursue  our  own  interests  and  ends 
with  lordly  indifference  to  the  opinions  and  interests  of 
mankind.  It  glories  in  the  immensity  of  our  population, 
our  vast  resources,  and  our  assumed  ability  to  thrash 
the  united  world.  It  relates,  in  fact,  wholly  to  war, 
actual  or  prospective.  It  means  admiration  for  the  prow- 
ess of  our  arms,  our  ability  to  devastate  and  destroy ; ^ 

^ One  of  our  teachers  told  me  that  she  asked  one  of  her  scholars 
what  patriotism  meant,  and  received  the  prompt  information,  “To  kill 


THE  ETHICS  OF  PATRIOTISM 


41 


and  while  it  may  plume  itself  upon  the  magnitude  of  our 
industries  and  arts,  it  does  not  recognize  the  latter  feel- 
ing as  patriotism.  Of  the  higher  life  of  the  nation,  the 
connection  of  its  thought  with  the  thought  of  the  world, 
its  civilization  as  a part  of  the  advance  of  the  race,  it 
takes  no  heed  at  all.  If  this  is  the  view  of  the  unthinking 
only,  then  it  must  be  said  that  there  are  a vast  number 
of  people  commonly  rated  as  intelligent  who  do  not  think. 
It  is  the  view  of  many  of  the  really  kind-hearted  and  con- 
scientious, who  would  not  for  the  world  wrong  a neighbor. 
It  is  the  view  of  a great  multitude  who  are  influenced  by 
commercial  motives  entirely,  and  who  see  in  a state  of 
war  chances  to  improve  their  fortunes.  To  point  out  these 
would  be  an  ungrateful  and  a useless  task  — but  we  all 
know  some  of  them. 

There  is  still  another  class  who  in  a general  way  are 
opposed  to  war,  who  say  in  effect : “ The  nation  can  do 
no  wrong.”  Being  at  war,  no  matter  what  it  involves'  or 
how  brought  about,  whether  avoidable  or  not,  whether 
its-  successful  prosecution  will  or  will  not  bring  either 
honor  or  advantage,  it  is  the  part  of  patriotism  to  sup- 
press their  opinions,  to  wash  their  hands  of  any  responsi- 
bility in  the  matter,  to  encourage  the  war  spirit,  and 


Spaniards.”  Now  that  the  teaching  of  patriotism  is  to  be  made  compul- 
sory in  our  schools,  one  may  well  tremble  for  the  future  of  his  country. 
That  any  ideas  can  be  inculcated  other  than  those  current  in  our  news- 
papers and,  I am  obliged  to  say,  in  the  ordinary  pulpit,  is  hardly  to  be 
hoped  for.  If  there  is  anything  of  which  we  stand  in  crying  need,  it  is  an 
antidote  to  this.  How  the  subject  is  to  be  taught  properly  aiid  usefully 
is  a matter  for  our  best  educators  seriously  to  consider.  The  teacher 
with  rational  ideas  on  the  subject  and  courage  to  utter  them  would  in 
most  of  our  communities  suffer  martyrdom. 


42 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


shout  with  the  crowd.  For  all  practical  purposes  they 
might  as  well  hold  the  popular  view.  Now,  I concede 
that  the  good  citizen  cannot,  under  any  easily  imaginable 
circumstances,  actively  oppose  his  government,  however 
he  may  believe  it  to  be  in  the  wrong.  He  cannot  refuse 
his  share  of  the  burdens  which  war  brings  upon  the 
nation,  nor  can  he  give  aid  and  comfort  to  the  enemy. 
But  he  is  not  under  obligation  to  stultify  himself  or  to 
conceal  his  convictions.  It  is  precisely  at  such  times  as 
we  are  considering  that  temperate  but  earnest  expression 
of  opinion  may  aid  in  bringing  about  a healthier  public 
sentiment.  Those  who  really  love  their  country  ought  to 
be  willing  to  be  placed  with  the  minority,  to  bear  obloquy 
and  persecution,  if  necessary,  in  following  what  they 
believe  to  be  for  its  best  interests.  To  acquiesce  in  an 
unrighteous  war,  approving  it  in  appearance  and  in  word, 
with  a mental  reservation  and  a promise  when  it  is  over 
to  do  what  they  can  to  discourage  future  wars,  is  cow- 
ardice or  imbecility. 

If  patriotism  is  a duty,  — and  under  my  conception  of 
it  I hold  it  to  be  so,  — it  must  somehow  be  brought 
within  the  system  of  ethics.  Its  basis  must  not  be 
sought  in  a sentiment,  but  in  laws  of  right  and  wrong. 
It  is  not  an  isolated  virtue,  but  a part  of  character.  It 
is  not  a theory,  but  a question  of  conduct.  “Love  of 
country  ” cannot  be  satisfied  by  a froth  of  enthusiasm, 
the  clapping  of  hands,  the  blubbering  of  vulgar  senti- 
mentality, nor  even  by  enlistment  in  the  army.  “ Devo- 
tion to  its  interests  ” will  not  be  evidenced  by  the  blind 
applause  of  every  proposed  action  by  the  government, 
right  or  wrong,  wise  or  foolish.  It  will  be  shown  rather 


THE  ETHICS  OF  PATRIOTISM 


43 


by  the  patient  effort  to  determine,  first  of  all,  what  is 
the  rational  and  proper  action.  If,  unfortunately,  a dif- 
ferent one  has  been  determined  upon,  it  will  endeavor, 
so  far  as  possible,  to  make  the  error  manifest  and  to 
urge  another  course.  When  the  true  one  has  been 
found,  then  it  will  be  manifest  by  a willingness  to  make 
sacrifices  and  bear  hardships,  if  need  be,  to  accomplish 
the  end  sought.  It  will  therefore  involve  the  exercise 
of  the  soundest  judgment  and  the  coolest  reason. 

If  this  is  the  true  conception  of  patriotism,  then  I am 
sure  no  one  can  have  for  it  greater  veneration  than  1. 
If  I cannot  approve  everything  which  my  country  has  done 
or  attempted,  I do  profoundly  honor  the  ideals  which 
it  set  before  itself  in  the  beginning,  and  am  distressed 
beyond  measure  whenever  it  seems  in  danger  of  losing 
them.  I do  not  censure  warmth  of  feeling,  a glow  of 
pride,  over  the  achievements  of  our  countrymen  as  such. 
Nay,  there  have  been  many  occasions  in  my  life  when  a 
glimpse  of  the  Stars  and  Stripes  has  wrought  in  me  an 
intense,  sometimes,  I must  confess,  a most  irrational 
enthusiasm.  The  flag  is  a symbol  of  the  government; 
but  it  is  perfectly  possible  for  it  to  stand  for  dishonor 
and  wrong.  Few  now  doubt  that  it  did  so  when  it  stood 
for  human  slavery  in  our  own  land.  Whatever  it  meant  to 
me  in  the  more  emotional  season  of  youth,  it  is  now  “ Old 
Glory  only  as  it  stands  for  glorious  principles.  If  I am 
a good  citizen,  I cannot,  in  my  relations  to  my  fellow 
citizens,  violate  those  principles  of  honor  and  morality 
upon  which  the  good  of  the  community  depends.  No 
more  can  a nation,  without  loss  of  character,  without 
dishonor,  without  forfeiting  its  right  to  the  esteem  of 


44 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


the  world,  violate  the  immutable  laws  of  justice  and 
righteousness  upon  which  the  welfare  of  the  community 
of  nations  is  based. 

To  say,  therefore,  as  our  newspapers  have  lately  been 
saying,  ad  7iauseani,  that  we  are  a young  giant  just 
becoming  conscious  of  our  strength,  a great  world  power 
that  will  not  brook  dictation,  is  quite  beside  the  question. 
It  is  precisely  as  if  we  should  say  that  a young  athlete  is 
justifiable  in  using  his  strength  against  any  one  on  the 
street  who  offends  him  or  who  chances  to  be  in  his  way. 
To  say  that  we  will  not  heed  the  intelligence  or  moral 
sense  of  the  world  is  to  proclaim  ourselves  barbarians. 
Concede,  if  you  please,  that  we  have  nothing  to  fear, 
that  we  are  able  to  repel  any  force  which  may  be 
brought  against  us,  the  question  whether  the  best  inter- 
ests of  the  nation  will  be  subserved  by  possible  conflicts 
remains.  Taking  it  in  its  lowest  phase,  will  our  industry 
and  trade  be  best  promoted  by  war  or  peace .?  Will  it  be  a 
source  of  unqualified  satisfaction  to  us,  after  the  expend- 
iture of  enormous  blood  and  treasure,  to  know  that  we 
have  inflicted  equal  or  greater  loss  1 On  the  most  selfish 
view,  as  well  as  on  the  most  disinterested,  our  true 
course  must  be  dictated  by  judgment  and  right  reason. 
How  is  it  possible  that  the  great  majority  even  of  intel- 
ligent people  have  made  patriotism  practically  synony- 
mous with  mere  combativeness,  one  of  the  lower  animal 
instincts  ? If  we  attentively  observe  the  conditions 
under  which  this  was  developed,  the  purpose  it  has  sub- 
served in  the  advance  of  the  race,  the  changes  it  has 
undergone,  how  it  has  adapted  itself  to  circumstances, 
the  matter  will  be  simplified. 


THE  ETHICS  OF  PATRIOTISM 


45 


We  have  seen  that  in  the  lowest  forms  of  life  each 
individual  organism  was  unassociated  with  every  other. 
They  were  not  entirely  unrelated,  since  they  had  a com- 
mon habitat  and  one  life  reacted  upon  another ; but 
there  was  nothing  in  common.  There  was  no  sex.  Life 
was  multiplied  by  the  mere  division  of  an  organism, 
each  half  becoming  an  individual  life.  There  were  no 
organs,  no  special  appliances,  no  senses,  a rudimentary 
sense  of  touch  possibly  excepted.  The  creature  floated 
about  in  the  water  without  apparent  aim,  but  upon 
coming  into  contact  with  an  object  which  could  be 
assimilated,  in  some  way,  without  mouth  or  digestive 
cavity,  managed  to  envelope  it  with  its  own  entire  organ- 
ism, which  was  a mere  globule  of  jelly-like  matter.  The 
whole  creature  might  be  considered  a rudimentary 
stomach,  without  and  within.  Thus  the  sundered  halves 
might  conceivably  furnish  food  for  each  other.  Not 
merely  might  the  father  eat  the  son,  or  the  son  the 
father,  but  the  creature  might  devour  itself.  Life  was, 
in  brief,  an  organized  appetite.  For  an  immense  period 
the  only  question  in  the  world  was  of  eating  or  being 
eaten,  a hundred  to  one  the  latter,  since  one  organism 
could  be  perfected  only  by  the  destruction  of  many 
others.  The  only  relation  which  could  subsist  between 
the  different  individuals  in  this  microscopic  world  was 
one  of  absolute  antagonism  ; and  courage  or  indifference 
to  danger  was  the  first  condition  of  a prolonged  existence. 
Possibly  the  suffering  was  not  great.  There  may  have 
been  no  consciousness  of  life,  as  we  understand  conscious- 
ness, and  there  was  almost  certainly  no  dread  of  death. ^ 

1 Haeckel  thinks  that  consciousness  proper  is  developed  only  in  con- 
nection with  the  nervous  system,  having  a common  center  ; but  this 


46 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


As  the  history  of  life  went  on,  special  organs  were 
developed,  and  contrivances  by  which  the  creature 
became  more  efficient  both  in  the  art  of  destruction  and 
defense.  Teeth,  claws,  horns,  stings,  fangs,  increase  of 
strength,  speed,  agility,  greater  skill  in  the  use  of  its 
means,  cunning  in  concealment  or  attack  were  devel- 
oped ; but  evermore  the  contest  as  to  which  should  be 
eaten  went  on. 

Almost  from  the  beginning,  therefore,  we  find  two 
great  classes  or  divisions  of  animal  life,  — one  subsisting 
on  vegetable,  and  the  other  on  animal  fife.  We  may 
guess  that  combination  first  arose  among  the  former  for 
the  purpose  of  defense.  Thus  common  resistance  to 
attack  or  communal  vigilance  and  cunning  took  the  place 
of  the  exclusive,  individual  effort.  This  led,  in  some 
cases,  as  with  the  dog,  the  wolf,  and  the  jackal,  to  com- 
bination for  the  purpose  of  destruction.  In  man  combi- 
nation for  both  purposes  was  probably  effected  from  the 
beginning.  Something  of  the  kind  existed,  indeed,  much 
lower  down  the  scale  of  life,  as  with  bees  and  ants, 
where  we  find  highly  organized  communities,  perhaps 
we  might  say  civilization.  I am  not  attempting  to  follow 

appears  to  contradict  his  whole  general  theory  of  the  progress  of  life. 
Wherever  we  see  any  effort  at  the  adaptation  of  an  organism  to  its 
environment,  any  attempt  at  self-preservation,  we  should  postulate 
some  sort  of  consciousness.  In  the  lowest  forms  of  life  it  is,  no  doubt, 
as  vague  as  the  life  itself ; but  we  do  not  have  to  go  very  high  in  the 
scale  of  life  to  find  a vigorous  manifestation  of  it.  Every  boy  has 
noticed  the  energetic  response  of  the  earthworm  to  the  stimulus  of 
the  point  of  a fishhook  and  the  writhings  of  the  creature  when  he  has 
been  successfully  impaled.  If  not  conscious  suffering,  what  is  it  ? 
Perhaps  in  these  lower  forms  sensation  and  consciousness  are  the  same 
thing. 


THE  ETHICS  OF  PATRIOTISM 


47 


the  exact  order  of  the  development  of  species,  but  merely 
attempting  to  point  out  the  general  course  of  things. 

With  man,  the  family,  consisting  of  a man,  wife,  or 
wives,  and  children,  formed  the  primary  group,  which 
soon  enlarged  into  the  patriarchal  family,  then  into 
larger  communities,  the  clan,  tribe,  and  race.  In  every 
stage  a leader  was  a necessity  ; and  we  have  seen  how 
he  was  selected.  All  members  of  the  group  would  be  in 
some  sense  dedicated  to  the  common  interest,  whether 
in  offense  or  defense.  But  just  as  there  were  antago- 
nisms between  the  individuals,  there  will  now  be  between 
the  groups,  the  accumulations  of  each  becoming  objects 
of  desire  to  the  other.  In  the  contests  that  followed, 
the  successful  leader  became  the  hero.  This  was  in  no 
way  different,  presumably,  from  the  heroism  shown  by 
animal  leaders,  but  was  higher  in  intelligence.  In  the 
benefits  of  a successful  contest  each  member  of  the 
community  shared,  and  there  would  be  a community  of 
satisfaction.  Each  would  have  a vicarious  pride  in  the 
common  achievement,  whether  he  had  contributed  much 
or  little  to  it.  Every  male  might  legitimately  aspire  to 
the  leadership,  so  that  there  would  be  a community  of 
ambition. 

Having  now  a developed  communal  feeling,  we  have 
to  go  but  a step  to  find  the  beginnings  of  patriotism. 
At  the  outset  the  feeling  of  attachment  to  locality  would 
be  weak  or  entirely  wanting.  Men  would  go  where  they 
were  most  successful  in  securing  fish  and  game,  or  where 
roots  and  berries,  on  which  they  depended  in  part,  were 
most  abundant.  They  would  change  their  locality  with- 
out the  slightest  hesitation  or  regret  whenever  a better 


48 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


was  found.  But  if  the  locality  continued  to  furnish  suffi- 
cient food,  they  would  gradually  accumulate  tools  and 
shelter,  however  rude,  and  the  idea  of  ownership,  com- 
munal so  far  as  the  land  is  concerned,  would  arise. 

Now,  the  family,  consisting  of  father,  mother,  and 
children  ; the  patriarchal  family,  consisting  of  several 
primary  families  ; the  tribe,  composed  of  several  patri- 
archal families,  recognizing  each  other  as  near  kindred  ; 
the  race,  where  the  idea  of  kinship  has  mainly  disap- 
peared, but  where  a common  origin  is  predicated,  and 
where  common  traditions  largely  control  the  develop-, 
ment,  — all  these  may  be  called  natural  groups,  growing 
out  of  or  taking  form  in  the  law  of  descent.  But  as  far 
back  as  we  can  go  in  history  we  find  also  the  petty  state, 
cutting  across  tribal  and  race  lines,  including  more  and 
less.  We  find  also  the  nation,  including  several  small 
states  or  kingdoms.  These  are  quite  artificial  and  based 
on  considerations  of  utility  or  convenience  only.  The 
influence  of  leadership  has  no  doubt  had  something  to  do 
with  it,  but  it  is  quite  safe  to  say  that  they  could  never 
have  been  formed  if  they  had  not  proved  to  be  useful. 
Just  as  the  smaller  groups  were  formed  to  eliminate  indi- 
vidual antagonisms,  so  these  larger  bodies  were  formed 
to  mitigate  group  antagonisms. 

In  the  coiu'se  of  time  the  difficulties  of  changing  the 
habitat  became  great  or  prohibitive.  The  inconvenience 
of  transporting  their  personal  belongings  would  forbid  a 
general  migration.  If  this  were  overcome,  it  would  still 
be  necessary  to  exterminate  a similar  population  in  the 
territory  to  which  removal  was  proposed.  But  after  a 
region  is  fairly  settled  and  the  cultivation  of  the  soil 


THE  ETHICS  OF  PATRIOTISM 


49 


has  come  to  be  somewhat  general,  the  work  of  one 
year  would  have  some  relation  to  the  future  and  value 
beyond  the  immediate  return.  As  civilization  advances, 
therefore,  people  become  not  figuratively  but  literally 
attached  to  the  soil.  The  interests  of  a people  would  be 
all  connected  with  a certain  region,  which  they  called 
their  country.  Individuals  move  here  and  there,  and 
leave  a country  altogether,  but  the  body  of  the  people  is 
fixed.  The  borders  of  a state  change  through  wars  or 
purchase,  but  the  population  remains.  The  fortunes  of 
the  individual  finally  come  to  be  dependent  on  the  per- 
petuity and  stability  of  the  community,  and  he  begins  to 
have  a sort  cT  proprietary  right  in  it.  Whatever  affects 
the  whole  affects  him.  He  gives  himself  credit  for  the 
achievements  of  his  neighbor,  and  finds  comfort  in  shift- 
ing the  responsibility  for  his  own  failures  upon  the  com- 
munity at  large.  All  this  time  he  may  have  no  love  for 
the  land  as  such,  and  no  love  for  the  community  of 
which  he  is  a part,  but  a mere  perception  of  the  advan- 
tage which  they  afford  him.  A foreign  land  may  appeal 
to  his  aesthetic  sense  more  strongly ; a foreign  community 
may  offer  greater  advantages  to  his  business  interests, 
his  social  instincts,  his  tastes.  If  he  changes  his  habitat, 
in  a short  time  the  same  sentiment  attaches  to  the  new 
community.  To  give  up  friends  and  break  with  lifelong 
associations  is  a loss  for  a season,  but  he  follows  the 
course  which  seems  to  him  on  the  whole  to  offer  the 
greatest  advantage. 

Patriotism,  then,  in  its  origin  and  development,  has 
been  utilitarian  and  economic  rather  than  moral.  It  is 
simply  the  principle  of  combination  and  cooperation 


50 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


applied  to  the  aggregate  interests  of  a community,  small 
or  large.  In  the  end,  of  course,  it  embraces  more  than 
merely  material  ends,  the  moral  and  intellectual  interests 
coming  in  for  their  dues.  While  by  our  definition  we 
make  it  relate  to  a country,  it  is  not,  perhaps,  to  be  dis- 
tinguished from  the  sentiment  which  attaches  to  the 
primitive  home,  the  rude  platform  in  the  branches  of  a 
tree,  or  the  cave  which  furnished  shelter  and  protection. 
There  cooperation  in  the  work  necessary  to  support  life, 
common  use  and  ownership  of  the  bits  of  shell,  bone,  or 
stone,  — their  first  household  implements,  — union  for  de- 
fense, enjoyment  in  common  of  the  fruits  of  their  efforts, 
finally  resulted  in  the  family  feeling  as  we  know  it.  The 
sentiment  attached  itself,  in  turn,  to  each  larger  group, 
retaining  as  much  as  it  could  of  what  it  had,  but  giving 
up  something  to  each.  Naturally  the  family  tie  is  strong- 
est of  all  because  the  earliest  and  having  had  the  longest 
inheritance.  Next  would  follow  the  attachment  to  home, 
the  dwelling  place  and  spot  of  ground  owned  or  controlled 
by  the  householder.  Then  would  come  the  tie  to  the 
neighborhood,  including  everything  well  known,  but  grow- 
ing weaker  with  every  step  taken  from  the  hearthstone. 
In  England  we  should  find  it  following  an  order  some- 
thing like  this  ; the  family,  the  village  or  tun,  the  hun- 
dred, the  parish,  the  county,  the  petty  state,  the  kingdom, 
the  empire.  Our  political  divisions  are  more  artificial  and 
pre-arranged.  The  order  would  run  like  this : the  family, 
the  school  district,  the  township,  the  city,  the  county, 
the  state,  the  United  States.  Chronologically  or  historic- 
ally, we  should  find  the  tie  first  attaching  to  a little 
island  in  the  James  River  or  a strip  of  rocky  soil  on  the 


THE  ETHICS  OF  PATRIOTISM  51 

Massachusetts  coast.  Now,  it  must  spread  itself  over  half 
a continent.  It  does  not  need  to  be  pointed  out  that  it 
must  be  weakened  by  this  great  extension,  for  the  reason 
that  to  the  great  mass  of  people  the  greater  portion  of 
our  country  must  remain  absolutely  unknown,  and  it  is 
impossible  to  have  the  same  interest  in  that  which  is 
remote  as  in  that  near  at  hand.  At  the  time  of  our 
separation  from  the  mother  country,  the  little  planta- 
tions had  grown  into  thirteen  colonies.  Now  we  have 
four  times  as  many  political  groups.  When  we  get 
through  our  conquests  we  may  have  a hundred.  At  the 
beginning  of  the  Revolutionary  War  it  never  entered  the 
heads  of  the  colonists,  for  the  most  part,  that  patriotism 
required  the  people  of  one  colony  to  love  those  of  another, 
or  to  devote  themselves  to  its  interests.  Self-interest 
alone  suggested  a union  for  common  defense.  Even  up 
to  the  time  of  the  Civil  War  the  idea  that  people  in  the 
several  states  owed  love  or  devotion  to  the  interests  of 
the  United  States  had  been  but  feebly  developed  at  the 
South.  Certain  prescribed  duties  and  burdens  they  rec- 
ognized, but  allegiance  was  due  to  the  state. 

Consider,  now,  another  significant  fact.  The  popula- 
tion of  our  country  is  made  up  of  nearly  all  the  races  of 
the  world,  immigrants  from  all  civilized  nations,  some 
half-civilized  and  many  barbarous  peoples,  with  their 
descendants.  These  all  owed  the  duty  of  patriotism  to 
the  communities  from  which  they  came.  There  were  the 
Indians,  the  original  proprietors,  hundreds  of  tribes, 
owing  fealty  to  a little  community  and  a limited  terri- 
tory. In  Louisiana  there  was  a Spanish  patriotism  to 
be  changed  into  French  and  then  into  American.  In 


5^ 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


California  it  was  Spanish,  then  Mexican,  then  American. 
In  Alaska  it  was  first  Russian.  Among  the  original 
colonies  many  nationalities  were  Americanized.  There 
is  said  to  be  a little  piece  of  land  lying  between  Maine, 
New  Hampshire,  and  Canada  not  included  in  any  jur- 
isdiction. Presumably  there  is  a de  facto  government, 
and  the  poor  people  manage  to  get  along  some  way 
with  the  patriotism  which  attaches  to  this  No-man’s 
land.  But  consider  how  sad  it  would  be  if,  indulging  the 
belief  that  they  were  really  within  the  jurisdiction  of 
Maine,  they  should  allow  their  patriotic  fervor  to  fix 
itself  to  that  cold-water  state,  and  a future  survey  or 
agreement  should  make  it  necessary  to  transfer  it  to  the 
state  of  abounding  rock  and  easy  license  ; sadder  yet, 
should  they  finally  be  set  off  to  Canada,  so  to  become  a 
part  of  one  of  the  effete  monarchies  of  Europe  ! It 
would  then  be  necessary  for  the  people  to  learn  “ to  love 
what  now  they  hate,  and  hate  what  they  adore.”  This 
is  no  empty  speculation.  Actual  war  once  raged  along 
the  border  line  between  New  York  and  Vermont  because 
the  people  did  not  know  to  which  of  these  states  their 
patriotism  belonged. 

Perhaps  the  most  peculiar  spectacle  is  presented  by 
the  attitude  of  our  citizens  of  African  descent,  — dragged 
from  a distant  land  to  which  their  patriotism  was  due, 
held  to  unwilling  service  and  unrequited  toil,  denied  all 
political  and  nearly  all  legal  rights,  property,  wife,  chil- 
dren, home,  bought  and  sold  like  cattle,  subject  to  the 
will  or  caprice  of  a master,  their  very  claim  to  humanity 
repudiated,  so  that  the  pride  of  ownership,  which  among 
others  finally  develops  into  the  patriotic  sentiment,  was. 


THE  ETHICS  OF  PATRIOTISM 


53 


as  it  were,  reversed  and  made  to  cherish  a negation.  It 
was  the  master’s  possession  which  they  gloried  in,  and 
their  pride  increased  in  proportion  to  the  number  of 
people,  themselves  included,  who  had  no  rights  at  all. 
Beyond  one  or  two  of  the  neighboring  plantations,  the 
slave  knew  nothing  whatever  of  his  country,  and  his 
ideas  of  its  glory  were  but  a distorted  reflection  of  those 
of  his  master,  which  may  or  may  not  have  had  a rational 
basis.  His  devotion  to  the  interests  of  his  country, 
measured  by  willingness  to  make  sacriflces  for  it,  would 
probably  have  been  small ; but  in  patriotism  of  the  emo- 
tional sort,  that  sentimental  haze  and  blind  enthusiasm 
which  works  itself  off  in  shouting,  firing  of  guns,  and 
grandiloquent  oratory,  he  has  had  no  equal. 

From  these  illustrations  it  must  be  clear  that  patriot- 
ism, whatever  it  is,  is  not  one  of  the  absolute  virtues, 
like  truthfulness,  honesty,  or  sobriety,  but  the  most 
changeable,  artificial,  and  relative  which  can  well  be 
imagined.  It  shifts  with  every  action  of  a community, 
real  or  proposed.  If  that  action  is  in  accord  with  sound 
reason,  if  it  is  the  best  possible  under  the  conditions, 
then  the  support  and  approval  of  the  citizen  is  patriotic. 
If  it  is  against  sound  reason,  to  the  disadvantage  of  the 
country,  or  less  advantageous  than  another  course  which 
is  open,  patriotism  will  require  the  citizen  to  disapprove 
and  actively  oppose  it,  even  if  it  is  necessary  to  stand 
alone  or  to  make  a majority  only  by  counting  God 
on  his  side.  If  the  case  is  such  that  reason  cannot 
authoritatively  determine  what  the  best  interests  of  the 
country  require,  then  citizens  will  take  the  one  view  or 
the  other  according  to  their  conception  of  the  probable 


54 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


results,  and  their  action  will  be  equally  patriotic,  though 
opposed.  Thus  it  would  seem  that,  in  a concrete  case, 
the  most  important  element  in  patriotism,  devotion  to 
the  interests  of  one’s  country,  would  eliminate  blind  sen- 
timent entirely  and  become  identical  with  reason. 

We  have  already  seen  how  courage,  in  its  inception  a 
quality  employed  in  combat,  has  steadily  declined  with 
the  development  of  mentality,  so  that  now  it  holds  only 
a subordinate  place  even  in  war ; that  with  the  growth 
of  the  race  it  became  even  more  widely  applicable  in  the 
arts  of  peace.  In  the  end  it  is  left  with  very  little  of  its 
primary  character,  and  has  been  transmuted  into  cool- 
ness, prudence,  restraint,  and  reason.  In  like  manner 
patriotism  found  its  first  application  in  combat.  War,  if 
not  the  normal  state,  was  the  chronic  condition  among 
primitive  races.  The  arts  of  peace,  though  from  the  first 
they  must  have  been  immensely  more  important  than 
war,  which  produces  absolutely  nothing  and  is  waged 
solely  for  the  purpose  of  destruction,  attracted  little 
attention.  At  any  rate,  during  this  stage  patriotism 
meant  simply  the  desire  for  the  success  of  the  commu- 
nity in  war.  Love  of  country  was  joy  in  the  success  of 
its  arms.  But  in  process  of  time  it  became  apparent 
to  mankind  that  the  real  prosperity  of'  a country 
depended  almost  altogether  on  its  productive  efforts,  so 
that  devotion  to  the  interests  of  country  took  on  an 
entirely  different  meaning.  Under  this  meaning  we  may 
be  permitted  to  rank  as  patriots  all  who  are  conscien- 
tiously carrying  forward  in  their  country  the  work  of  the 
world,  inventors,  artists,  musicians,  scientists,  philoso- 
phers, scholars,  teachers,  workmen,  — all  who  are  doing 


THE  ETHICS  OF  PATRIOTISM 


55 


their  best  to  fill  their  places  in  their  country  and  the 
world,  without  fuss  or  complaint.  All  these  are  just  as 
truly  entitled  to  admiration  and  praise  as  the  warrior 
who  risks  his  life  on  the  battlefield ; certainly  a great 
deal  more  than  the  man  who  goes  into  a war  for  what 
he  expects  to  make  out  of  his  share  of  the  plunder,  even 
if  we  call  it  prize  money. 

Patriotism,  then,  on  its  intellectual  side,  is  pretty 
much  the  same  thing  as  right  reason  ; on  its  moral  side, 
nearly  the  equivalent  of  good  citizenship.  But  if  there 
is  still  a small  field  for  the  exercise  of  patriotism  in  the 
old  sense,  it  ought  not  to  escape  our  attention  that  even 
here  its  spirit  has  been  profoundly  modified,  and  in 
what  we  call  a necessary  war  the  temper  and  feeling  of 
the  citizen  are  not  at  all  what  they  once  were.  It  is 
the  theory,  once  closely  approached  in  practice,  that 
where  two  communities  are  at  war  with  each  other, 
every  individual  of  the  one  is  at  war  with  every  individ- 
ual of  the  other,  and  his  duty  requires  him  to  strive 
to  the  uttermost  for  the  destruction  of  his  enemy. 
All  ties  of  friendship,  kindred,  humanity,  sympathy, 
community  of  thought  were  thus  swept  away.  Patriot- 
ism required  the  Jews  absolutely  to  destroy  the  cities  of 
their  enemies,  not  stopping  with  the  slaughter  of  women, 
but  wreaking  vengeance  on  unborn  babes.  It  was  in 
supposed  obedience  to  the  divine  command  that  Samuel, 
in  cold  blood,  hewed  Agag  in  pieces  before  the  Lord. 
In  the  exercise  of  patriotism,  such  as  they  understood  it 
to  be,  the  American  Indian  inflicted  upon  his  captive 
the  extremity  of  pain.  But  for  a long  time  the  rigors  of 
war  have  been  abating.  Even  the  soldiers  feel  little 


56 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


personal  enmity  towards  each  other.  Citizens  are  usu- 
ally safe  in  person  and  property ; and  the  conventions 
of  civilized  nations  forbid  the  employment  of  certain 
destructive  agencies  in  war.  Thus  in  the  field  left  to  it 
the  old  patriotism  is  losing  its  ferocity,  its  delight  in 
slaughter  and  destruction  ; and  while  men  may  take 
life  in  vainglory,  they  no  longer  often  do  it  for  pastime, 
although  we  still  blush  to  remember  the  chronicle  of  the 
advent  of  the  allied  forces  of  “ civilization  ” in  China, 
with  its  frightful  recrudescence  of  barbarism. 

We  have  seen  how  groups,  from  families  to  states, 
tend  to  coalesce  to  form  a larger  unit.  The  primary  end 
we  have  found  to  be  the  elimination  of  antagonisms.  In 
the  process  one  group  is  sometimes  destroyed ; some- 
times it  becomes  a vassal  to  the  stronger.  The  larger 
body  sometimes  goes  to  pieces,  but  the  process  of  reunit- 
ing the  fragments  is  immediately  renewed.  Thus  far  we 
have  considered  only  integration  brought  about  by  con- 
quest. We  should  miss  the  significance  of  this  general 
movement  if  we  failed  to  note  the  influence  of  even  more 
potent  factors.  These  did  not  manifest  themselves  to 
any  considerable  degree  during  the  period  of  chronic  war, 
but  appeared  immediately  when  peace  became  the  nor- 
mal condition.  It  then  became  evident  that  it  was  much 
easier  for  man  to  supply  his  wants  through  industry 
than  through  conquest.  We  shall  accordingly  see,  in 
the  development  of  industries  of  all  sorts,  an  irresistible 
tendency  in  the  direction  of  union  or  combination.  The 
primitive  family  supplied  its  wants  directly  through  its 
own  efforts,  conquest  being  one  of  them.  Food,  clothing, 
implements,  and  weapons  were  home  made,  a rude  barter 


THE  ETHICS  OF  PATRIOTISM 


57 


coming  in  at  an  early  stage,  but  no  community  of  effort 
in  production.  Now,  we  shall  find  thousands  of  workmen 
collected  in  the  great  mills,  weaving  cotton,  woolen,  and 
silk,  making  shoes,  clothing,  tools,  furniture,  canned 
goods,  and  the  myriad  appliances  of  modern  life.  Even 
agriculture,  the  slowest  of  all  industries  to  change,  man- 
ifests the  same  tendency.  As  yet  not  a great  deal  has 
been  done  toward  assimilating  the  industries  of  different 
countries,  though  the  effect  of  the  one  upon  the  other  is 
easily  seen. 

Trade  or  commerce  is  another  agency,  perhaps  work- 
ing still  more  powerfully  to  this  end.  In  itself  it  pays 
not  the  slightest  attention  to  race,  creeds,  political  bound- 
aries, or  social  distinctions.  It  is  purely  a question  of 
buying  and  selling  to  advantage.  Governments,  for  rea- 
sons which  they  deem  sufficient,  interfere  by  means  of 
tariffs,  restrictions,  prohibitions,  or  monopolies;  but  trade 
itself  knows  none  of  these,  and  would,  subject  to  the 
question  of  profit  only,  take  the  whole  world  into  its 
field.  These  two  great  factors,  it  should  be  noted,  are 
purely  selfish  or  self-interested,  working  to  economical 
ends  without  the  slightest  sentiment.  It  is  true  that 
there  must  be  a large  recognition  of  individual  right  and 
a large  measure  of  rectitude  and  fair  dealing,  but  even 
these  are  recognized  as  means  to  an  end. 

Upon  this  point  it  would  be  easy  to  enlarge  ; but  it  is 
not  necessary  to  do  more  than  point  out  the  direction 
of  things.  The  growth  of  trades  unions  and  organiza- 
tions by  which  it  is  intended  to  control  labor  is  a strik- 
ing instance.  The  department  store,  by  which  nearly 
everything  wanted  in  a community  is  brought  within  a 


58 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


single  building  and  controlled  by  a single  head,  is  another. 
The  union  of  capital  in  the  consolidation  and  manage- 
ment of  railways  and  steamships  is  a movement  on  a 
great  scale  begun  well  within  the  memory  of  most  of  us. 

Other  factors  making  for  the  integration  of  mankind 
grow  more  important  with  advancing  civilization.  Art, 
music,  literature,  and  science,  for  example,  strive  toward 
certain  ideals  and  care  nothing  whatever  for  race  and 
political  separations.  Difference  in  language  and  dis- 
tance prevent  to  some  extent  the  dissemination  of  ideas ; 
but  so  they  would  do  if  all  countries  were  united  in  one 
body  politic.  The  acceptance  of  ideas  is  not  a matter  of 
nationality  at  all.  Thought  asks  for  no  passport  and 
stops  at  no  frontier.  While,  therefore,  we  may  admire 
the  great  achievements  of  our  countrymen,  our  pride 
must  be  based  upon  the  value  of  their  work,  and  not 
upon  the  fact  that  it  is  American.  In  the  higher  life  of 
the  world  there  is  no  room  for  patriotism  in  the  accepted, 
vulgar  sense. 

I have  left  to  the  last  the  consideration  which  some 
will  think  sufficient  to  determine  the  whole  matter.  In 
what  way  is  patriotism  related  to  Christianity,  meaning 
not  ecclesiastical  bodies  or  so-called  Christian  nations,  but 
the  teaching  of  Christ  as  to  the  social  relations  of  men  ? 
Does  this  tend  to  the  unification  or  to  the  separation  of 
the  race  — to  divide  men  into  diverse,  hostile,  or  at  best 
indifferent  groups,  or  to  draw  them  together  in  common 
interest,  effort,  and  feeling  ? I suppose  that  no  one  will 
hesitate  an  instant  for  the  answer.  Now,  if  Christianity 
is  the  basis  of  ethics,  as  most  people  believe,  we  shall 
find  therein  a solution  of  all  questions  of  national  as  well 


THE  ETHICS  OF  PATRIOTISM 


59 


as  of  personal  conduct.  Whether  this  is  or  is  not  the  real 
basis  of  ethics  is  immaterial.  The  belief  that  it  is  must 
determine  largely  the  feeling  which  we  are  to  exercise 
toward  those  of  different  nationality  or  race.  It  cannot 
be  that  my  conduct  as  a man  is  to  be  determined  upon 
the  principles  laid  down  by  Jesus  Christ,  and  my  action 
as  a citizen  upon  principles  absolutely  in  conflict  with 
them. 

While  it  is  true,  therefore,  that  nominally  Christian 
nations  have  waged  the  most  cruel  and  inhuman  wars, 
even  in  the  name  of  Christ,  that  institutional  Christianity 
has  retained  many  of  the  antagonisms  under  which  the 
race  has  groaned,  and  added  yet  others  of  its  own,  it  is 
yet  true  that  the  central  thought  of  the  Master,  never 
wholly  lost  or  forgotten  in  the  Church,  the  brotherhood 
of  man,  is  the  most  powerful  of  all  factors  working  for 
the  unification  and  integration  of  humanity.  If  wars 
are  waged  by  Christian  nations,  it  is  not  because  of  the 
teachings  of  Christ,  but  in  spite  of  them.  If  Christianity 
is  really  to  become  the  universal  religion,  necessarily  it 
must  eliminate  wars  and  all  other  antagonisms  which 
originated  in  and  were  necessary  to  the  lower  forms  of 
life,  and  which  remain  as  a survival  in  the  higher.  The 
principle  which  it  applies  to  conduct  — do  unto  others  as 
you  would  wish  them  to  do  unto  you  — is  limited  to  no 
class,  condition,  or  circumstances,  but  is  universal,  cutting 
across  the  lines  of  race,  language,  tradition,  prejudice, 
political  jurisdiction,  religion,  creed,  and  ceremonial.  It 
is  absolutely  opposed  to  the  local,  the  exclusive,  the 
particular,  and  accidental.  It  aims  to  bring  all  mankind 
within  the  operation  of  a single  law,  to  secure  for  every 


6o 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


human  being  the  share  that  falls  to  him  as  one  of  the 
children  of  the  universal  Father  ; not  such  share  as  he 
can  grasp  and  hold  by  the  strong  hand,  but  that  freely 
and  joyfully  accorded  him  by  every  other  person  in  recog- 
nition of  a common  brotherhood ; not  actual  equality, 
perhaps,  but  equal  opportunity,  equity,  fairness,  gener- 
osity. In  a community,  in  a world,  where  such  a prin- 
ciple of  action  prevails,  what  place  is  left  for  patriotism 
in  the  offensive,  popular  sense  of  exclusive  pride  in  our 
own  country  and  devotion  to  its  selfish  interests  ? It  is 
the  principle  of  Christianity  which  I here  consider,  not 
its  results  as  yet  realized.  Christianity  has  not  yet  had 
its  last  word.  That  it  will  at  last  bring  the  reason  and 
conscience  of  mankind  to  the  acceptance  of  the  golden  rule 
I sincerely  believe.  Men  may  or  may  not  think  it  of  super- 
natural origin.  Because  of  what  I conceive  to  be  a gross 
misunderstanding  or  willful  perversion  of  the  Master’s 
teaching  I shall  devote  a special  chapter  to  the  considera- 
tion of  the  teachings  of  Christ  with  reference  to  war. 

We  have  seen  a steady  progress  of  unification  from 
the  time  when  combination  began  to  take  the  place  of 
the  old  antagonisms.  We  have  seen  the  smaller  groups 
coalesce  or  become  coordinated  in  a larger  unit,  until 
at  last  the  nation  is  formed.  We  have  seen  the  forces 
which  are  at  work  in  this  process.  We  have  yet  to 
observe  that  it  does  not  end  with  the  nation.  It  is  not 
generally  realized  that  the  nations  have  been  united  for 
certain  purposes.  There  is  no  organic  union,  but  a large 
body  of  political  and  legal  principles  have  secured  just  as 
complete  recognition  among  all  civilized  nations  as  have 
the  principles  which  regulate  • the  rights  of  individuals 


THE  ETHICS  OF  PATRIOTISM  6l 

in  the  State.  Rights,  privileges,  and  duties  are  defined 
in  what  we  call  international  law,  — law  not  imposed  by 
one  nation  upon  another,  but  by  each  nation  upon  itself. 
The  code  is  still  very  imperfect,  and  no  means  of  en- 
forcing it  as  yet  exist  except  the  compulsion  of  the  moral 
sense  of  mankind,  which  each  year  grows  more  potent. 
It  does  not  pretend  to  regulate  the  entire  conduct  of  a 
nation  toward  its  neighbors,  any  more  than  the  municipal 
law  pretends  to  cover  the  entire  conduct  of  the  citizen. 
Our  own  century  has  done  more  for  the  definition  and 
recognition  of  its  principles  than  all  which  had  preceded  it. 
The  conference  at  The  Hague  did  not  result  in  all  that 
was  hoped  for  it,  or  which  might  have  been  secured  under 
other  conditions.  We  were  unhappily  engaged  in  a war 
of  conquest ; Great  Britain  was  likewise  handicapped  by 
its  South  African  difficulty  ; and  Germany  had  wantonly 
seized  a portion  of  Chinese  territory  and  did  not  choose 
to  defend  itself  in  an  international  court.  Nevertheless, 
the  establishment  of  a court,  though  not  compelling  arbi- 
tration, is  the  most  significant  fact  in  nineteen  centuries 
of  international  development.  Excepting  in  the  class  of 
cases  where  the  national  honor  is  supposed  to  be  involved, 
the  propriety  and  righteousness  of  arbitration  were  fully 
recognized.  With  the  ever-increasing  pressure  of  moral 
sentiment,  we  may  reasonably  look  forward  to  the  settle- 
ment in  the  near  future  of  all  differences  between  nations 
upon  fixed  legal  principles. 

Suppose  we  go  a step  farther.  Let  us  conceive  that 
for  certain  large  purposes,  looking  to  the  general  utility, 
the  governments  of  the  civilized  world  should  join  them- 
selves by  actual  union,  their  duties  and  relations  being 


62 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


defined  by  actual  compact,  any  concrete  case  arising 
to  be  construed  in  an  international  court.  There  would 
thus  be  formed,  for  certain  specified  purposes,  a republic 
of  nations,  the  members  bearing  toward  it  much  the  same 
relation  which  our  states  bear  to  the  general  government. 
Such  a confederation  is  not  only  not  impossible,  but  not  at 
all  improbable.  Nay,  unless  there  is  a change  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  forces  which  during  all  these  centuries  have  been 
setting  more  and  more  strongly  one  way,  it  is  a certainty, 
though  it  would  be  rash  to  attempt  to  fix  its  advent. 

He  would  have  been  a rash  prophet,  nay,  a madman, 
who,  two  centuries  ago,  had  predicted  the  union  of  half 
a hundred  American  communities  in  a single  nation,  and 
that  without  conquest.  It  is  only  a little  more  than  a 
millennium  since  England  consisted  of  seven  separate  and 
warring  governments.  How  many  there  were  in  Ireland, 
Scotland,  and  Wales  it  would  not  be  easy  to  say.  The 
union  of  these  in  the  Kingdom  of  Great  Britain  was  not 
accomplished  until  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, while  the  British  Empire  is  a thing  of  our  own 
generation.  The  same  is  true  of  the  German  Empire. 
Conquest,  it  is  true,  has  been  an  element  in  this  process, 
but  that  which  has  lain  behind  it  all  is  a clear  perception 
of  the  utility  of  such  a union.  To  suppose  that  the 
process  has  now  stopped  would  be  preposterous.  That 
the  great  nations  will  sometime  be  brought  together  in 
voluntary  and  indissoluble  bonds  is  as  sure  to  my  mind  as 
that  “ God  is  in  his  heaven.” 

What,  then,  will  patriotism  demand  at  our  hands  ? Our 
hands,  I say,  meaning  those  who  shall  follow  us.  We  of 
this  generation  may  hope  to  see  this  only  in  vision,  but 


THE  ETHICS  OF  PATRIOTISM 


63 


even  now  it  is  our  right  to  claim,  through  our  efforts, 
citizenship  in  that  social  New  Jerusalem,  the  pattern  of 
which  is  already  prepared  in  the  heavens.  Surely  it  will 
not  lead  us  to  glorify  the  military  prowess  of  that  nation 
of  nations,  since  wars  will  be  no  longer  possible,  or  if 
they  sometimes  flash  out,  it  will  be  like  riots  in  our 
cities,  to  be  suppressed  by  the  law,  backed  by  the  moral 
sentiment  of  the  world.  Rather,  it  will  demand  loyalty 
to  the  confederation  which  gives  security  to  all  races  and 
lands  and  leaves  the  nations  free  to  follow  their  high- 
est development,  not  groaning  under  the  enormous  bur- 
dens of  military  establishments,  nor  forever  on  the  watch 
and  shaking  with  dread  of  sudden  destruction  by  some 
stronger  power.  Patriotism  will  no  longer  relate  to  our 
particular  patria, — the  United  States,  let  us  say,  or  the 
state  of  Ohio,  or  the  city  of  Washington, — and  it  will 
not  be  called  patriotism,  but  something  higher.  Let  us 
call  it  fellowship,  if  you  please,  brotherhood,  humanism, 
enthusiasm  of  humanity,  civilization,  Christianity,  for  it 
will  be  the  fruition  of  that  Christianity  taught  by  the 
Master.  It  will  mark  the  final  substitution  of  right  reason 
for  brute  courage.  Just  as  the  latter  lost  its  ferocity  and 
was  transfused  into  mental  and  moral  qualities  as  the  old 
individual  antagonisms  gave  way,  and  finally  found  its 
chief  field  not  in  war  but  in  the  arts  of  peace,  so  the  new 
patriotism  will  look  upon  the  old  glorification  of  war,  the 
fierce  delight  in  slaughter  and  destruction,  as  wild  deliri- 
ums of  fever,  the  ghastly  and  haggard  nightmares  of  a 
night  that  is  past. 

To  this  hope,  to  this  ideal,  let  us  yield  our  admiration, 
our  reverence,  our  obedience,  our  love.  Toward  it  let 


64 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


US  strive,  though  we  may  not  attain.  Sometime,  some- 
where, man  will  realize  that  for  which  we  vainly  yearn. 
Humanity  will  cast  away  its  cruel  and  foolish  burden  of 
jealousy  and  antagonism,  and  with  light  heart  and  mutual 
encouragement  climb  the  long  spirals  of  progress  which 
seem,  indeed,  ever  to  return  upon  themselves,  but  still 
rise  forever  skyward.  Whether  there  is  a goal  of  perfec- 
tion we  cannot  say,  but  surely  the  spiral  will  rise  to  clear 
skies  and  a broad  horizon,  from  which  it  will  look  back 
upon  what  we  call  civilization  with  the  same  wonder  and 
repugnance  with  which  we  regard  that  geological  period 
when  “a  monstrous  eft  was  of  old  the  lord  and  master 
of  life.” 


IV 


CAN  WAR  BE  DEFENDED  ON  THE  AUTHORITY 
OF  CHRIST? 

It  will  probably  not  be  questioned  that  what  may  be 
classed  as  the  Christian  thought  of  this  or  almost  any 
civilized  country  embraces  the  greater  proportion  of  its 
trained  intelligence.  In  this  class  we  must  reckon  not  the 
members  of  churches  only,  but  great  numbers  of  our  best 
citizens  who  affiliate  with  them,  and  who  through  educa- 
tion and  inheritance  adhere  more  or  less  closely  to  the 
accepted  religious  beliefs.  Still  more  emphatically  is  it 
true  that  the  class  represents  the  highest  development 
of  altruism,  the  loftiest  motives,  the  most  generous  self- 
sacrifice,  the  most  unselfish  lives.  If  united,  therefore, 
it  is  easy  to  see  that  it  would  dominate  not  merely 
the  domestic  but  the  foreign  policy  of  our  government. 
Doubtless  it  is  fortunate  that  there  has  been  little  if 
any  tendency  toward  an  ecclesiastical  party,  for  reasons 
which  I need  not  specifically  point  out,  but  which  may 
be  easily  gathered  from  what  follows.  Now,  it  is  very 
remarkable,  but  I think  quite  plain,  that  this  body  of 
thought  will  generally  be  found  favoring  the  most  self- 
ish, indiscriminate,  brutal,  wasteful,  and  most  ineffectual 
means  of  settling  differences  among  men.  In  theory  it 
is^  opposed  to  .warJaut  verv-jarely  in  a concrete  instance.. 
If  it  does  not  actively  champion,  it  hardly  ever  squarely 

65 


66 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


sets  itself  against  it.  A very  large  gropTflioil— oLThe 
wars  of  the  last  ten  centuries  have  turned  upon  or 
involved  religious  questions.  One  country  easily  con- 
demns the  war  undertaken  by  another,  but  never  its 
own.  During  the  War  of  the  Rebellion  the  ears  of  the 
Almighty  were  assailed  with  the  frantic  cries  of  Chris- 
tians on  both  sides  for  the  destruction  of  their  fellow 
citizens  and  Christian  brethren.  The  war  with  Spain 
and  the  prolonged  struggle  in  the  Philippines  received 
the  somewhat  exuberant  approval  of  this  class;  and  the 
same  was  true  in  England  concerning  the  Boer  War. 
This  was,  of  course,  far  from  unanimous ; and  in  our  case 
it  may  be  conceded  that  it  was  given  somewhat  grudg- 
ingly at  the  outset,  but  with  the  outbreak  of  hostilities 
all  reluctance  disappeared.  The  class  called  for  further 
bloodshed  in  China,  not  in  direct  terms,  but  as  a neces- 
sary consequence.  It  insisted  that  its  missions  should  be 
maintained  and  extended  by  military  force,  if  need  be. 

Now,  if  Christianity  were  a mere  extension  of  the  old 
Judaism,  this  attitude  would  not  be  hard  to  understand. 
In  that  religion  Jahveh  was  primarily  a tribal  war  god, 
who  afterwards  attached  himself  to  the  soil  or  terri- 
tory occupied  by  his  chosen  people.  Outside  of  this  he 
claimed  no  jurisdiction  and  cared  nothing  for  what  took 
place.  He  exacted  no  worship,  and  left  other  peoples  to 
the  management  of  their  own  particular  gods.  He  was, 
however,  extremely  jealous  of  the  homage  of  his  own 
people,  and  for  any  infraction  of  his 'rights  visited  them 
with  terrible  punishments.  He  entered  into  a solemn 
covenant  with  them,  by  which,  so  long  as  they  faithfully 
observed  their  obligation,  he  undertook  not  only  to 


ON  THE  AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST  6/ 

protect  them  from  attack  but  to  enable  them,  through  his 
direct  aid  and  leadership,  to  conquer  and  destroy  their 
neighbors  and  enter  into  possession  of  their  lands.  Thus 
religion  reenforced  the  lower  instincts  of  men  by  mak- 
ing robbery  and  murder  a religious  duty.  By  stimulat- 
ing and  approving  their  natural  selfishness  and  greed,  it 
intensified  the  antagonisms  which  we  have  seen  to  be 
inevitable  in  the  beginnings  of  life.  Up  to  the  time  of 
Christ  the  Jewish  mind  had  failed  to  grasp  the  idea  of 
the  fatherhood  of  God  and  the  unity  of  the  human  race. 
Jahveh  was,  popularly  speaking,  the  God  of  the  Jew  only. 
Of  course  their  conception  broadened,  in  spite  of  the 
efforts  of  their  priests  and  teachers  to  shut  them  up  to 
the  narrower  view.  Whether  the  result  was,  on  the  whole, 
bad  or  good  is  of  no  concern  to  the  present  contention. 

To  a greater  extent  than  is  generally  realized,  these 
ideas  passed  into  Christianity.  They  have  never  been 
wholly  eliminated,  though  greatly  modified.  During  its 
infancy  Christianity  naturally  looked  for  the  same  kind 
of  protection  against  violence  from  without  which  Juda- 
ism had  claimed  for  itself.  When  it  became  strong 
enough  to  seize  the  secular  power  it  sought  to  use  it, 
as  the  Jews  had  done,  for  the  extension  of  the  kingdom 
of  God.  Until  the  temporal  power  was  lost  to  the  Pope, 
there  was  never  any  doubt  as  to  the  right  and  duty  of 
employing  it  directly  for  the  destruction  of  heathen  or 
heretical  governments  and  institutions.  Upon  the  ashes 
of  pagan  fanes  it  has  reared  its  temples,  bearing  aloft  the 
symbol  of  passive  suffering.  In  the  blood-soaked  soil  of 
ruined  nations  it  has  planted  the  laurel  and  the  bay,  from 
which  to  gather  its  garlands  to  deck  the  brow  which  wore 


68 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


the  crown  of  thorns.  It  has  never  hesitated  to  claim  that 
its  devastating  armies  were  led  by  the  Prince  of  Peace. 

It  seems,  indeed,  as  if  Christianity  has  felt  compelled 
to  propagate  itself  by  any  means  which  came  to  its  hand. 
Holding  its  doctrines  and  practice  to  be  of  the  supremest 
importance  to  man,  whose  eyes  are  blinded  and  whose 
will  is  paralyzed  by  sin,  its  devotees  have  felt  that  they 
were  doing  the  noblest  service  in  compelling  him  to 
accept  that  salvation  without  which  he  is  doomed.  So 
far  the  feeling  is  not  indeed  selfish,  however  misguided. 
Selfishness  has,  however,  always  availed  itself  of  the  zeal 
of  the  Church  to  secure  its  own  ends.  Traditional  Chris- 
tianityTtselLhas  never^  stopped  to  inquire  whpAer  men 
desire  it.  From  its  vantage  ground  it  has  said  they  need 
and  must  have  it,  whether  they  will  or  no.  It  was  in 
the  ages  of  faith,  when  no  doubt  perplexed  the  heart 
of  the  Church,  that  its  zeal  for  propagandism  was  at 
its  height.  It  is  only  in  modern  times,  when  largely 
infused  with  the  secular  reason,  that  it  has  come  to  see 
that  religion  cannot  be  imposed  upon  men  by  force,  and 
so  has  consented  to  give  up  the  sword  to  the  civil 
authorities.  But  while  it  no  longer  insists  upon  war  as 
a direct  instrumentality  for  the  introduction  of  Christian- 
ity or  the  suppression  of  heresy,  it  is  exceedingly  prone 
to  see  in  it  new  opportunities  for  forwarding  its  interests. 
It  has  become  sensitive  to  the  odium  of  bloodshed,  but 
is  willing  that  the  State  should  incur  the  reproach  while 
it,  as  a silent  partner,  reaps  the  benefit.  It  has  lost  much 
of  its  old  relish  for  martyrdom  also,  and  is  satisfied  to 
allow  the  army  to  be  a sort  of  John  the  Baptist,  prepar- 
ing its  way  and  making  its  paths  safe. 


ON  THE  AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST 


69 


Let  me  absolutely  disclaim  any  intent  to  minimize  the 
-Jmportance  of  Christianity  in  its  essential  doctrines  and 
nature.  I am  speaking  of  organized  Christianity,  as 
represented  by  those  who  have  controlled  its  movements 
rather  than  its  life  and  growth.  Perhaps  I should  have 
spoken  of  it  as  ecclesiasticism,  though  the  attitude  I have 
described  seems  to  be  that  of  all  but  a small  minority  of 
Christians.  Above  all,  I should  regret  to  have  it  supposed 
that  I could  speak  slightingly  of  those  engaged  in  mis- 
sionary work.  Among  the  good  men  and  women  whom 
it  has  been  my  happy  privilege  to  know,  some  of  the 
very  noblest,  most  unselfish,  and  most  lovable  have  been 
of  this  class.  Nor  do  I stigmatize  the  Church  for  its  past 
history,  which,  taking  all  things  into  account,  could  not 
probably  have  been  other  than  it  has  been,  for  like  every- 
thing else  it  is  a product  of  the  circumstances  in  which 
it  has  been  placed.  I am  trying  to  account  for  what 
appears  to  me  a most  remarkable  and  perplexing  fact. 

I believe  the  Church  means  to  be  loyal  to  its  founder, 

^ yet  at  the  same  time  has  entirely  perverted  his  teaching 
— x>n  a point  upon  which  the  whole  turns.  Tt  is  its  very 
-.zeal  to  carry  out  the  instructions  of  the  Master  which  _ 
■ has  led  itjntp  the,  .repudiation  of  the  fundamental  princi- 
-_plejyhjch  he  laid  down.  “.Go  ye  into  all  the  world  and 
preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature  ” was  his  command. 
But  if  in  some  places  this  creature  shall  refuse  to  receive 
me,  and  upon  my  benevolent  persistence  shall  oppose 
my  entrance,  and  to  my  preaching  reply  with  blows, 
what  then  ? -Afeet  violence  with  ymlgnce  is  the  practi- 
..,..j:al  answer,  nopXoE-Xour  own  sake  but  for  his.  When 
._you  have  convinced  the  misguided  wretch  of  your,  physical  - - 


70 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


supe^rity  he  will  be  ready  to  see  the  superiority  of 
your  religion.  This  is  not  merely  a horrible  perversion 
of  the  teaching  of  Christ ; it  is  grotesque.  If  it  were  not 
the  most  solemn  and  terrible  thing  in  the  world,  it  would 
be  the  most  humorous. 

It  is  not  in  the  least  unusual  for  men  to  carry  about 
in  their  heads  ideas  that  are  utterly  inconsistent  and 
even  contradictory  without  knowing  it.  But  here  we 
are  discussing  not  a question  of  reason,  but  of  author- 
ity only ; not  whether  the  teaching  of  Christ  is  right, 
though  I believe  it  is,  but  what  the  teaching  was.  If 
this  is  clear  and  certain,  it  is  for  the  Church  to  say 
whether  it  will  accept  it  or  repudiate  it.  If  for  any  rea- 
son it  thinks  it  is  not  now  binding  upon  the  world,  it  is 
for  it  to  explain  on  what  principle  it  may  be  rejected. 
If  it  is  able  calmly  to  set  it  aside,  it  should  further 
explain  what  it  understands  by  the  headship  of  Christ, 
and  whether  the  rest  of  his  teaching  can  in  like  manner 
be  disregarded. 

It  will  nowhere  be  questioned,  within  the  Church  or 
outside  of  it,  that  at  the  beginning  of  his  ministry  Christ 
came  with  a message  of  peace,  the  same  which,  accord- 
ing to  Luke,  the  angels  announced  at  his  birth.  The 
kingdom  of  God  which  it  was  his  immediate  mission  to 
establish  was  a brotherhood  of  man.  It  swept  away  all 
class  privilege  and  placed  all  upon  an  absolute  equality 
of  right,  under  the  operation  of  a single  controlling  prin- 
ciple, — the  law  of  love.  The  kingdom  of  heaven  belonged 
to  the  poor  in  spirit.  It  was  the  meek  who  were  to  inherit 
the  earth.  Not  only  was  it  forbidden  that  one  should 
be  angry  with  his  brother;  he  might  not,  until  he  had 


ON  THE  AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST 


71 


exhausted  every  effort,  allow  his  brother  to  be  angry 
with  him.  If  at  the  altar  he  remembered  that  his  brother 
had  against  him  any  cause  for  complaint,  reasonable  or 
otherwise,  his  first  duty  was  not  sacrifice  but  reconciliation. 
Not  only  so,  but  he  must  love  his  enemies.  The  doctrine 
of  non-resistance  is  as  clearly  and  unmistakably  set  forth 
as  language  can  state  it.  “ Resist  not  him  that  is  evil ; 
but  whosoever  smiteth  thee  on  thy  right  cheek,  turn  to 
him  the  other  also.”  They  might  not  avail  themselves 
of  the  civil  courts  in  any  differences  with  outsiders.  If 
one  should  seek  through  legal  process  to  take  the  coat, 
they  must  tender  the  cloak  also. 

Let  it  be  conceded  that  this  is  pressing  the  principle 
very  far,  quite  exceeding  the  requirement  of  the  golden 
rule,  which  exacted  such  treatment  of  another  as  one 
might  properly  ask  to  receive.  This,  to  a right-minded 
person,  would  be  fairness.  It  is  no  part  of  the  present 
purpose  to  inq^uire  whether  the  doctrine  of  non-resistance 
is  sound,  but  merely  whether  Christ  consistently  taught 
it.  If  it  is  not  binding  upon  the  Church,  it  is  because  of 
one  or  the  other  of  two  things : either  the  doctrine  was 
inherently  unsound  and  Christ  was  mistaken  in  hold- 
ing it,  or,  while  it  was  correctly  held  and  taught  in  the 
beginning,  he  at  a later  time  changed  his  mind.  The 
theological  consequence  is  the  same:  one  of  these  views 
is  erroneous.  It  does  not  help  matters  to  say  that  con- 
ditions had  changed.  As  a matter  of  fact,  they  had  not 
within  the  few  months  that  had  intervened  between  the 
first  and  last  utterance.  But  there  is  not  the  slightest 
hint  that  either  teaching  is  for  a temporary  condition  or 
related  to  the  conduct  of  the  disciples  only.  Everything 


72 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


indicates  that  it  was  a principle  laid  down  for  all  time. 
Did  altered  conditions  abrogate  the  golden  rule  ? Did 
Christ  advise  his  followers  that  in  the  changed  condi- 
tions they  should  repay  evil  with  evil  If  he  was  wildly 
visionary  at  the  outset,  how  does  the  Church  reconcile 
this  fact  with  its  teaching  that  he  was  “very  God  of 
very  God  ” As  a fact,  slowly  changing  conditions  have 
not  made  the  lofty  altruism  of  Christ  less,  but  far  more 
practicable. 

We  must  not  lose  sight  of  the  question  raised.  What 
authority  for  war  can  be Jfound  jn.the  teachings  of  Christ? 
The  appeal  is  to  the  record ; it  is  a matter  of  interpreta- 
tion only.  What  men  who  think  they  accept  Christ’s 
teachings  believe  to  be  right  or  expedient  has  nothing 
to  do  with  the  inquiry.  When  we  come  to  put  together 
the  utterances  upon  which  they  argue  that  he  approved 
or  permitted  war  we  shall  see  what  a very  slender 
foundation  they  have  for  the  tremendous  inference,  logi- 
cally dragging  down  his  whole  teaching  and  destroying 
at  a blow  the  accepted  theory  of  his  nature. 

According  to  Matthew,  in  sending  forth  his  disciples 
he  said : “ Think  not  that  I came  to  send  peace  on  the 
earth.  I came  not  to  send  peace,  but  a sword.  For  I 
came  to  set  a man  at  variance  against  his  father,  and  the 
daughter  against  her  mother,  and  the  daughter  in  law 
against  her  mother  in  law;  and  a man’s  foes  shall  be 
they  of  his  own  household.”  Now  it  may  be  conceded 
that  Christ  foresaw  future  wars  as  a consequence  of  two 
contending  systems  of  thought  and  conduct ; but  this  is 
not  a necessary  inference  from  the  language.  He  did 
foresee  that  his  teachings  would  meet  with  opposition. 


ON  THE  AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST 


73 


and  he  expressly  warns  his  disciples  to  expect  it.  But 
this  opposition  is  not  that  of  one  community  against 
another.  Division  is  to  run  not  on  political  lines,  but 
through  all  communities  and  cutting  asunder  the  ties 
of  family  life.  At  a later  date  he  did  predict  wars,  — 
“ Nation  shall^  rise  against  nation  and  kingdom  against 
kingdom,”  — but  in  these,  so  far  as  the  record  goes,  his 
jfollowers  were  to  have  no  part.  They  are  not  to  be  ter- 
rified when  they  hear  of  wars  and  tumults.  Their  trials 
were  to  come  in  a different  way.  Parents  and  brethren 
and  kinsfolk  and  friends  would  deliver  them  up  to  the 
authorities;  but  there  is  no  suggestion  that  they  should 
be  involved  in  wars,  or  that  they  should  resort  to  any 
violence.  There  will  be  great  destruction  of  the  Jews, 
and  Jerusalem  shall  be  trodden  down  of  the  Gentiles; 
but  “your  redemption  draweth  nigh.” 

But  returning  to  the  account  in  Matthew,  the  disci- 
ples were  sent  on  their  mission  without  any  of  those 
provisions  which  worldly  prudence  would  dictate.  They 
were  to  take  neither  money  nor  food  nor  change  of 
raiment.  They  would  be  brought  into  courts ; but  they 
were  to  have  no  anxiety  and  make  no  preparation.  “It 
shall  be  given  you  in  that  hour  what  ye  shall  speak.” 
He  counsels  no  resistance,  much  less  the  use  of  offensive 
force.  “ When  they  persecute  you  in  this  city,  flee 
into  the  next”;  and  apparently  he  does  not  look  for  any 
long-continued  opposition,  for  “Ye  shall  not  have  gone 
through  the  cities  of  Israel  till  the  Son  of  man  be  come.” 
Now,  taking  this  together,  it  shows  that  he  looked  for 
opposition  and  persecution,  butjt  utterly  fails  to  show 
that  he  conternp]ated  or  permitted  the  use  ofTorce  in 


74 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


any  shape  or  degree  on  the  part  of  his  followers.  Imag- 
ine from  his  lips  in  this  connection  an  exhortation  to  the 
warlike  life ! 

There  are  perhaps  one  or  two  other  passages  slightly 
varying  this  language,-  but  in  nowise  changing  its  sig- 
nificance. There  is  also  a passage,  found  only  in  Luke, 
which  on  its  face  seems  to  sanction  the  use  of  force. 
After  the  last  supper  at  Jerusalem,  just  before  Christ’s 
parting  from  his  disciples,  he  says  to  them  : “ When  I 
sent  you  forth  without  purse,  and  wallet,  and  shoes,  lacked 
ye  anything } ” And  they  said,  “ Nothing.”  “ But  now,” 
he  replies,  “ he  that  hath  a purse,  let  him  take  it,  and 
likewise  a wallet : and  he  that  hath  none,  let  him  sell  his 
cloak,  and  buy  a sword.  For  I say  unto  you,  that  this 
which  is  written  must  be  fulfilled  in  me : And  he  was 
reckoned  with  transgressors."  And  they  said,  “ Lord, 
behold,  here  are  two  swords.”  And  he  said  unto  them, 
“It  is  enough.” 

Enough  for  what } To  suppose  that  he  could  have 
meant  that  the  possession  of  two  swords  by  his  disciples 
was  a sufficient  preparation  to  meet  force  with  force, 
much  less  to  commence  a campaign  of  violence  for  the 
spread  of  his  teaching,  is  too  absurd  for  the  most  robust 
credulity.  To  resort  to  such  an  interpretation,  unless 
the  language  absolutely  requires  it,  is  contrary  to  every 
principle  of  exegesis ; it  sets  aside  the  presumption 
that  Christ  manifested  at  least  the  intelligence  of  ordi- 
nary men. 

But  it  is  on  its  moral  still  more  than  on  its  intellectual 
side  that  such  an  interpretation  is  most  repugnant.  We 
might  conceive  that  the  great  success  of  his  ministry  in 


ON  THE  AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST 


75 


Galilee  had  warped  the  judgment  of  Christ,  as  we  know 
it  had  that  of  his  followers.  But  to  suppose  that  he  had 
set  aside  the  fundamental  principle  which  he  came  to 
proclaim  is  to  deprive  his  life  and  teaching  of  all  moral 
significance.  It'wouldhejo.revise  the  beatitudes.  It  is 
no  longer  the  meek  who  should  inherit  the  earth,  but 
the  man  on  horseback. 

Fortunately  there  is  not  the  slightest  necessity  for 
such  an  interpretation.  Beyond  all  controversy  the 
evangelist  here  cites  a Scripture  prophecy  which  Christ 
declares  is  about  to  be  fulfilled.  What  is  that  predic- 
tion ? Obviously  that  contained  in  the  words,  “ And  he 
was  reckoned  with  the  transgressors.”  The  Greek  word 
is  avoficov  — the  lawless.  But  while  Jesus  may  have 
treated  Jewish  ceremonial  with  scant  respect,  he  had 
never  violated  municipal  law  nor  countenanced  its  vio- 
lation by  others.  He  had  paid  tribute  or  poll  tax  like 
any  good  citizen.  ' Whatever  his  feeling  toward  the 
Roman  government  may  have  been,  he  had  carefully 
avoided  any  utterance  which  might  be  construed  as 
treasonable  or  unfriendly  to  Caesar.  But  now,  in  fulfill- 
ment of  this  Scripture,  he  must  in  some  way  be  classed 
as  a law-breaker.  How  was  this  to  be  done  ? For  his 
followers  to  offer  resistance  to  the  officer  of  the  law 
would  be  on  his  part  a technical  breach  of  the  law.  For 
this  purpose  two  swords  are  enough.  It  is  highly  prob- 
able, too,  that  the  carrying  of  arms  by  a Jew  was  for- 
bidden, and  was  thus  an  actual  offense. 

I do  not  know  but  this  explanation  is  very  trite.  My 
knowledge  of  Scripture  commentary  is  of  the  slightest, 
as  I have  never  had  a taste  for  that  form  of  literature. 


76 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


Once  pointed  out,  however,  the  meaning  of  the  pas- 
sage is  so  clear  that  only  the  most  ingenious  perversity 
could  construe  it  as  an  approval  of  the  use  of  violence  in 
any  case. 

If  it  be  said  that  this  is  a far-fetched  prophecy  with  a 
feeble  fulfillment,  I answer  that  the  difficulty  is  not  of 
my  making.  If  the  incident  is  not  historical,  no  argument 
can  be  based  upon  it.  If  the  writer  has  misstated  or  mis- 
applied the  words  of  Christ,  any  inference  that  he  justi- 
fied war  under  any  circumstances  is  just  as  obviously  a 
mistaken  one.  I merely  insist  that  I have  given  the  plain 
meaning  of  the  text,  the  construction  which  Luke  himself 
puts  upon  it.  It  is  in  complete  harmony  with  what  fol- 
lows. It  is  Peter,  always  hot-headed,  who  draws  his  sword 
and  cuts  off  the  ear  of  the  officer  or  attendant,  “ the  serv- 
ant of  the  high  priest.”  “ Put  up  again  thy  sword  into  its 
place”  is  the  rather  stern  command,  “for  all  they  that 
take  the  sword  shall  perish  by  the  sword.”  He  immedi- 
ately turns  the  incident  into  a moral  object  lesson,  the 
same  which  he  has  all  along  taught.  “ Suffer  ye  thus 
far,”  or  “suffer  even  this,”  he  says,  and  with  a touch 
he  heals  the  wound.  He  might,  he  affirms,  bring  to 
his  aid  more  than  twelve  legions  of  angels  ; but  to  use 
force,  even  a supernatural  force,  would  be  to  defeat  his 
moral  purpose.  To  Pilate  he  says  : “ If  my  kingdom 
were  of  this  world,  then  would  my  servants  fight,  that  I 
should  not  be  delivered  to  the  Jews.”  It  was  because  it 
was  a spiritual  kingdom  that  it  might  not  be  maintained 
by  the  means  employed  by  earthly  monarchs.  His  own 
.^example  gave  a force  and  meaning  to  his  teaching  that 
_cpuld  have  been  secured  in  no  other  way.  It  was  not  so 


ON  THE  AUTHORITY. OF  CHRIST 


77 


much  his  preaching  in  Galilee  as  hig^death  on  the  cross 
that  has  won  for  him  his  mighty  following...  It  was  the 
complete  exemplification  of  all  that  for  which  hisi-Iife— 
and  teachings  had  sto^od.  Not  alone  to  his  disciples,  but 
to  all  men,  he  taught  the  lesson  the  world,is.so-slQw...t.o  , 
yeceive, — the  power  of  love  to_conguer,eyiJ. 

If  in  view  of  changing  circumstances  or  of  his  own 
removal  from  them,  Jesus  had  meant  to  give  a new 
rule,  to  indoctrinate  his  disciples  with  those  considera- 
tions of  worldly  prudence  of  which  men  in  general 
have  something  of  a superfluity,  there  was  a singular 
inconsistency  between  his  words  and  his  actions.  Indeed, 
we  must  think  his  language  was  strangely  inappropri- 
ate to  his  meaning.  Some  of  his  followers  were  quite 
quick  enough  to  meet  force. with  force.  They  had  really 
almost  entirely  failed  to  grasp  the  idea  of  a spiritual 
kingdom.  They  had  been  anxious  to  call  down  fire 
upon  those  who  had  refused  to  receive  them,  but  who 
had  offered  no  violence  at  all.  It  was  the  mild,  spiritual, 
beloved  John,  not  the  quick,  impulsive  Peter,  who  had 
wished  to  pour  these  literal  coals  of  fire  on  the  heads  of , 
those  who  had  perhaps  at  farthest  shown  them  some 
disrespect.  They  had  quarreled  with  each  other  as  to 
who  should  have  the  highest  place  in  the  kingdom.  Yet 
not  one  of  them  understood  Christ  to  be  instructing 
them  to  resort  to  the  agencies  upon  which  the  world 
relies  and  to  meet  force  with  force.  On  the  contrary, 
they  now  for  the  first  time  began  to  have  some  dim  con- 
ception of  his  spiritual  mission.  His  patient  endurance 
of  wrong,  his  unjust  sufferings,  his  meek  obedience  unto 
death,  his  prayer,  in  the  midst  of  the  agony  of  the  cross. 


78 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


for  those  who  were  inflicting  this  upon  him,  completed 
the  lesson.  The  disciples  went  everywhere,  unarmed  and 
unresisting,  carrying  only  the  message  of  love.  They 
shrank  from  no  persecutions  nor  danger,  and  seemed  to 
seek  out  opportunities  for  martyrdom.  They  met  with 
shame  and  scoffing,  with  imprisonment  and  stripes,  and 
finally  with  violent  death ; but  not  one,  so  far  as  we 
know,  offered  any  resistance  or  raised  even  the  slightest 
complaint.  ^Taul,_  the,  great  apostle  to  the  Gentiles,  even 
more  fully,  though  not  more  clearly,  set  forth  the  doc- 
trine of  non-resistance.  More  than  this,  he  illustrated  it 
by  his  life  ; but  at  the  same  time  his  language  is  full  of 
the  imagery  of  war.  The  Christian  is  a soldier.  Life  is 
a warfare.  The  believer  must  put  on  “ the  whole  armor 
of  God,”  “the  breastplate  of  righteousness,”  and  “the 
helmet  of  salvation.”  With  girt  loins  he  must  take 
“the  shield  of  faith”  and  “the  sword  of  the  spirit.” 
Yet  it  is  not  with  flesh  and  blood  that  he  is  to  wrestle, 
and  he  must  have  his  feet  shod  with  “the  preparation 
of  the  gospel  of  peace."  This  sword  of  the  spirit  may 
well  be  the  sword  which  Christ  says  it  was  his  mission 
to  send.  If  it  is  a consolation  to  any  one  to  think 
that  he  foresaw  the  great  religious  wars  that  were  to 
come  through  a perversion  of  his  teachings,  I surely 
will  not  deny  him  that  comfort.  Certainly  he  never 
authorized  these  wars,  or  gave  any  hint  toward  their 
justification. 

Whether  the  teaching  of  Jesus  is  practicable  I shall 
consider  in  another  chapter.  I believe  that  I have  fairly 
shown  here,  upon  the  most  obvious  and  reasonable  con- 
struction of  the  few  passages  in  which  justification  of 


ON  THE  AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST 


79 


war  is  gnnorht^tb^^  rHow  the  nscjof  force  even 

in  self-defense.  _ff  a different  interpretation  is  possible, 
it  is  certainly  not  the  necessary  nor  the  natural  one.  It 
will  be  readily  conceded,  on  the  other  hand,  — indeed  I 
do  not  suppose  that  it  has  ever  been  questioned,  — that 
he  clearly  and  unmistakably  taught  the  do.c.tiine  of  non- 


wrong ; that  he  fully 


exemplified  this  doctrine  in  his  life  and  in  his  death  ; 
that  it  is  as  fully  set  forth,  with  as  complete  implication 
that  it  was  a universal  principle,  for  all  circumstances 
and  times,  as  the  law  of  love,  — in  fact,  that  it  is  a part 
of  that ; that  his  disciples  perfectly  understood  his  teach- 
ings on  this  point  and,  though  some  of  them  were  hot- 
blooded  enough,  followed  his  teaching  and  example  with 
the  most  remarkable  devotion.  The  example  of  the  dis- 
ciples was  in  turn  followed  by  primitive  Christianity ; 
it  was  only  when  the  new  faith  had  become  firmly  estab- 
lished that  force  was  thought  of  either  for  protection  o' 
a means  of  propagandism. 


/ Whether  it  is  possible  to  live  without  war  would 
I seem,  therefore,  to  depend  entirely  on  the  desire  and 
\^ill.  If  there  are  any  circumstances  under  jwhich  the 
. teaching  of  Christ  would  allow  .it,  ,it-_wQul(L  appear  that 
_ it  is  in  case  of  self-defe.aae^.  But  during  the  whole 
period  of  its  weakness  Christianity  found  it  perfectly 
practicable  and  expedient  to  get  along  without  it.  Only 


protection,  it  began  to  use  it,  because  it  believed,  or 
affected  to  believe,  that  the  spread  of  its  influence  jus- 
tified the  use  of  violence.  It  is  the  argument  that  is  still 
used,  but  not  in  a shape  quite  so  offensive. 


8o 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


If  fully  satisfied  that  Jesus  approved  or  permitted 
war,  Christianity  should  rest  in  that  conviction,  since  it 
holds  that  he  spoke  with  absolute  and  final  authority. 
In  fact,  it  is  not  and  never  has  been  satisfied.  The  con- 
tradiction between  this  and  the  doctrine  of  non-resistance 
is  too  plain  to  be  ignored  by  the  most  hardened  believer. 
It  is  driven  at  the  outset  to  apology.  The  only  explana- 
tion it  can  offer  is  that  he  changed  his  view.  The  neces- 
sary consequence  is  to  conclude  that  the  doctrine  of 
non-resistance  was  impracticable,  and  that  his  earlier 
teaching  was  a delusion.  But  with  the  ever-widening 
sense  of  human  broth erhood^  the _conviction  has  deep- 
ened that  the  law  of  love  is  the  permanent  and  universal 
rule  for  the  guidance  of  human  conduct,  and  that  war 
with  its  dreadful  destruction  and  enormous  suffering 
cannot  be  reconciled  with  it.  Christianity  has  therefore 
shifted  its  ground.  Oh,  yes,  waj  is  horrible,  and  Christ 
did  not  approve  of  it  as  a permanent  principle^  but  he 
allowed  it  for  a season  because  in  the  state  of  society 
which  he  found  and  which  he  left  it  is  unavoidable.  There 
will  come  a time  of  universal  peace,  — in  the  millennium. 
War  has  not  been  eliminated,  because  the  evil  passions 
of  men,  their  selfishness,  sin,  and  folly  have  not  been 
eliminated.  When  Christianity  is  everywhere  accepted 
war  will  cease.  Very  good.  War  is  permissible,  then, 
because  based  on  the  selfishness,  folly,  and  sin  of  men. 
Christ  sanctioned  it  because  it  is  sinful  or  selfish.  But 
this  will  apply  equally  to  lying,  stealing,  burglary,  arson, 
and  murder. 

Perhaps  I do  not  need  to  call  attention  to  the  fact  that 
this  is  also  an  entire  abandonment  of  the  argument  from 


ON  THE  AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST 


authority,  which  must  be  sought  in  what  Christ  said,  not 
in  what  we  think  he  ought  to  have  said.  To  say  that  war 
is  a necessity,  and  that  therefore  Christ  allowed  it,  is 
moreover  a mere  begging  of  the  question.  To  say  that 
he  changed  his  final  instructions  because,  being  divine, 
he  must  have  given  such  as  are  practicable,  is  open  to 
the  same  objection.  We  cannot  frame  conclusions  for 
him,  but  accept  such  as  are  fairly  indicated  in  his  recorded 
utterances  as  the  basis  of  our  own.  For  those  that  really 
accept  the  divinity  of  Christ  to  set  a certain  standard 
to  which  the  divine  wisdom  must  conform  is  not  merely 
absurd  but  impious...^ Shift  the  ground  as  we  may,  there- 
^fore,  no  justification  of  war  can  be  found  in  the  words  or 
_ acts  of  Christ.  If  war  is  defensible,  it  must  be  upon 
grounds  of  reason.  Thou  appealest  unto  Caesar;  to 
Caesar  thou  shalt  go. 


V 


CAN  WAR  BE  DEFENDED  ON  GROUNDS  OF 
REASON  ? 

It  will  be  well  at  the  outset  to  define  the  precise  point 
at  issue.  It  is  not  the  question  whether  at  some  period 
in  the  life  of  the  race,  under  the  conditions  which  existed 
and  with  the  mental  and  moral  development  which  had 
been  attained,  war  was  a necessity  and  so  justifiable,  but 
whether  it  is  so  now.  It  is  not  even  whether  now  a 
community  may  justifiably  defend  itself  if  attacked.  It 
would  be  as  pertinent  to  raise  that  question  in  the  case 
of  the  individual ; it  would  be  merely  asking  whether  it 
is  justifiable  to  live.  But  it  takes  two  parties  to  engage 
in  war,  and  if  one  has,  in  all  the  steps  which  led  up  to  it, 
been  striving  to  avoid  any  just  offense,  the  other  must 
just  as  certainly  have  been  striving  to  secure  an  unjust 
advantage.  If  one  is  truly  the  helpless  victim,  the  other 
is  as  certainly  the  wanton  aggressor.  In  fact,  these 
unmixed  conditions  rarely  present  themselves  in  modern 
warfare,  both  parties  being  controlled  largely  by  their 
traditions  and  prejudices.  At  the  best,  the  rational 
motive  on  the  one  side  is  balanced  by  the  irrational  one 
on  the  other.  There  are  reasons  and  reasons  on  the  part 
of  both,  it  may  be ; but  from  the  standpoint  of  reason 
itself  there  may  be  no  justification  of  this  particular  war. 
Reason  puts  itself  outside  of  the  particular  motives  and 

82 


ON  GROUNDS  OF  REASON 


83 


views  of  the  parties  to  the  strife,  to  consider  whether 
the  end  gained  justifies  the  means  employed ; whether, 
taking  all  the  results  into  the  account,  not  to  this  party 
or  that,  nor  even  to  both,  but  as  affecting  the  whole 
race,  there  has  been  a gain  which  will  equal  the  loss.  It 
is  not  a question  whether  wars  will  cease  in  the  immedi- 
ate or  distant  future,  but  whether  from  the  standpoint  of 
reason  they  ought  to.  No  one  supposes  that  lying,  rob- 
bery, arson,  murder,  and  other  crimes  will  cease  ; but 
they  are  not  approved  by  reason.  The  inquiry  is  whether 
war,  as  an  instrumentality,  on  the  whole  serves  a useful 
purpose.  It  is  the  same  question  which  arises  in  indi- 
vidual misunderstandings  and  wrongs.  Does  the  duel, 
the  street  fight,  the  mob,  serve  a useful  purpose  } ^ That 
some  incidental  good  comes  from  these,  in  certain  rare 
cases,  may  be  conceded  ; but  does  it  overbalance  the 
evils,  or  has  it  been  economically  obtained  ? Does  it 
bear  a fair  proportion  to  the  expenditure  of  effort  ? 
Those  engaged  in  them  have,  it  may  be,  at  the  time 

1 A good  illustration  comes  to  hand  as  I am  preparing  this  chapter. 
In  a Southern  village  a negro  had  been  confined  in  the  calaboose 
to  await  trial.  Some  citizens,  in  the  exercise  of  zeal  for  the  public 
good,  attacked  the  building  and  set  fire  to  it,  after  killing  the  prisoner. 
This  was  quite  in  accord  with  the  prevailing  sentiment  of  the  com- 
munity, and  if  not  actively  commended  would  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances have  been  approved.  It  chanced  that  the  blazing  calaboose  set 
fire  to  an  adjoining  building,  and  that  to  another,  and  finally  the  busi- 
ness part  of  the  village  was  wiped  out.  This  was  not  what  was  bar- 
gained for,  and  the  indignation  of  those  who  had  lost  their  property 
waxed  hot  against  the  mob,  and  four  or  five  members  of  it  were  indicted 
by  the  grand  jury.  Now,  if  it  were  apparent  to  the  community  that 
every  act  of  violence  by  the  individual,  mob,  or  state  was  going  to  cost 
it  something,  for  which  a very  insignificant  benefit  would  accrue,  such 
outbreaks  would  cease  to  have  apologists. 


84 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


found  reasons  to  justify  their  acts  ; but  shall  we  ? If  it 
were  a question  whether  passion  and  prejudice  will  con- 
tinue, I should  not  care  to  argue  the  case ; but  it  will 
not  be  alleged  that  these  are  rational.  If  war  is  defensi- 
ble on  rational  grounds,  it  must  be  shown  that  it  works 
again  — material,  mental,  or  moral  — which  could  not 
have'  been  secured  in  some  other  way,  or  at  least  without 
greater  expense.  It  is  not  enough  to  show  that  some 
gains  follow  war,  unless  it  also  appears  that  these  could 
not  have  been  as  fully  secured  under  conditions  of  peace. 
We  know  very  well  the  great  increase  in  strength,  vigor, 
activity,  and  zest  for  life  which  often  follows  a fever 
that  has  brought  one  near  the  gates  of  death ; but  not 
many  will  regard  the  fever  as  a desirable  agency  for  the 
attainment  of  health.  So  much  good  follows  shipwreck 
that  there  is  a class  of  people  who  think  it  proper  to  help 
bring  it  about  by  placing  false  lights  to  mislead  the  pilot. 

There  is  one  consideration,  and  one  only,  which  seems 
to  me  to  be  entitled  to  weight,  and  which  it  is  not 
altogether  easy  to  answer.  It  is  that  war  is  a necessity, 
and  however  earnestly  men  may  strive  to  avoid  it,  they 
are  unable  to  do  so.  There  is  a kind  of  fate  in  it,  and 
nations  are  driven  to  it  because  in  the  very  nature  of 
things  it  must  be  so.  It  is  like  sickness,  pain,  and  death, 
— • and,  however  unpleasant,  we  must  submit.  The  in- 
stinct for  fighting  is  imbedded  deeply  in  the  constitu- 
tion of  things.  Conflict  goes  on  incessantly  among  all 
forms  of  life.  Life,  in  fact,  begins  in  a sort  of  conflict, 
a reaction  against  its  environment.  We  cannot  observe 
it  nor  know  whether  it  exists  disassociated  from  a physi- 
cal organism,  but  far  back  as  we  may  go  we  find  some 


ON  GROUNDS  OF  REASON 


85 


portion  of  this  organism  moved  by  an  inward  force  which 
we  must  conclude  to  be  the  “little  living  will.”  The 
latter  we  do  not  pretend  to  explain.  It  is  part  of  the 
mystery  of  life  itself.  The  movement  of  the  organism 
thus  set  up  impinges  upon  something  fixed  or  relatively 
immobile  in  the  external  world,  which  through  reac- 
tion propels  the  entire  organism  through  space.  Thus, 
in  amoebae,  microscopic  bits  of  colorless  jelly,  without 
organs,  a slight  protuberance  is  thrust  out  from  the 
body  and  withdrawn,  the  principle  being  something  like 
that  employed  in  sculling.  In  others  of  these  rudimen- 
tary forms  of  life,  two  exceedingly  delicate  threads  which 
may  be  regarded  as  oars  are  waved  about  in  the  water. 
From  these  up  to  man  and  in  all  the  complicated  move- 
ments which  he  imparts  to  matter  there  is  in  this  respect 
no  change  of  principle.  All  are  exemplifications  of  the 
law  of  action  and  reaction.  Without  resistance  there 
could  be  no  motion.  All  this  is  profoundly  true. 

When  it  comes  to  the  preservation  and  development 
of  life  it  is  the  same.  The  creature  must  have  food,  and 
is  thus  brought  into  competition  with  other  forms  of  life 
whose  interests  and  wills  are  absolutely  antagonistic. 
This  has  been  indicated  in  the  preceding  chapters  ; but 
to  let  the  argument  for  war  be  made  as  complete  as  pos- 
sible, I will  outline  the  general  course  of  development 
from  a slightly  different  point  of  view.  At  the  threshold 
of  life  we  find  two  organisms,  one  of  which  must  be 
destroyed  for  the  benefit  of  the  other.  It  is  not  a matter 
of  sentiment  but  necessity.  There  is  no  other  food  sup- 
ply than  that  found  in  existing  forms  of  life.  There  is  no 
possibility  of  increasing  resources  by  effort.  If  the  two 


86 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


do  not  come  into  direct  collision  through  the  attempt 
to  eat  each  other,  they  will  in  their  efforts  to  appropri- 
ate a third.  Nay,  the  antagonism  goes  far  beyond  this. 
Since  life  feeds  only  on  life,  to  bring  one  form  to  matu- 
rity involves  the  sacrifice  of  a multitude  of  others.  The 
process  does  not  cease  with  man.  No  adult  man  or 
woman  exists  to  whose  development  countless  myriads 
of  lower  forms  have  not  contributed.  Not  only  so,  but 
all  superiority  has  come  from  struggle.  The  exercise  of 
existing  powers  brings  increase  of  strength,  adaptation, 
and  facility.  Any  slight  modification  which  proved  use- 
ful would  tend  not  only  to  perpetuate  itself,  but  through 
greater  and  greater  extension  would  finally  develop  into 
special  organs. 

The  law  of  increase  and  perfection  through  use  holds 
good  also  throughout  the  mental  and  moral  world.  The 
civilized  man,  no  less  than  the  savage,  has  attained  only 
because  he  has  striven.  Civilization  has  indeed  provided 
largely  for  the  protection  of  the  weak,  but  it  is  for  his 
preservation  only.  He  can  rise  only  through  struggle, 
which  has  indeed  changed  the  objects  toward  which 
strife  is  directed,  but  makes  it  none  the  less  exacting. 
Conflict,  therefore,  must  go  on  to  the  end.  To  put  an 
end  to  war  — that  is  the  argument  — is  to  arrest  human 
development.  In  the  whole  order  of  things,  including 
man  and  society,  the  strong  has  always  dominated  the 
weak.  It  may  give  a shock  to  the  moral  sense,  but  we 
are  helpless  to  change  the  order  imposed  upon  us  from 
without,  even  though  we  may  conceive  that  it  is  wrong. 

This  is  as  full  and  fair  a statement  of  this  argu- 
ment in  favor  of  or  excuse  for  war  as  the  limits  of  this 


ON  GROUNDS  OF  REASON 


87 


discussion  will  allow.  The  data  for  its  refutation  also 
have  been  given  in  the  preceding  discussion.  I need 
here  only  state  some  of  the  generalizations  reached  or 
easily  deducible  therefrom.  We  have  noticed  that  the 
absolute  antagonisms  pertain  only  to  the  lowest  forms 
of  life,  and  that  they  have  steadily  diminished  with  the 
rising  scale ; that  at  quite  an  early  period  some  combi- 
nation and  cooperation  began  ; that  with  this,  possibly 
before,  the  mental  development  began  to  be  more  impor- 
tant than  mere  physical  superiority.  We  have  seen  also 
that  the  struggles  in  the  earliest  stages  of  life  related 
wholly  to  food.  This  was  the  case  also  with  the  primi- 
tive man.  The  argument  from  analogy  would  lead  to 
the  conclusion  that  our  wars  should  be  only  to  obtain 
food,  and  that  having  slain  our  foe  we  should  eat  him. 

But  we  saw  that  with  the  lower  animals  combination 
led  to  no  increase  of  production  ; it  was  only  a means  of 
more  easily  reducing  to  possession  the  things  that  nature 
had  provided  ready-made.  The  use  of  tools  was  wholly 
unknown  to  them,  and  even  with  primitive  man  there 
had  as  yet  come  no  thought  of  adding  to  that  which 
nature  had  provided.  His  tools  would  be  only  sticks  or 
stones,  which  the  development  of  the  hand  enabled  him 
to  grasp,  and  these  made  him,  in  combination  with  his 
fellows,  superior  to  the  most  formidable  animals,  such  as 
the  cave  bea^  and  lion.  In  this  combination,  and  for  the 
successful  use  of  these  primitive  weapons,  it  is  apparent 
that  cunning  and  skill  were  more  important  than  strength. 
The  mental  development  rather  than  the  physical  gave 
to  man  the  first  place  in  the  animal  scale.  As  this  men- 
tal development  went  on  it  finally  dawned  upon  him  that 


88 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


he  could  add  to  the  products  of  nature.  We  need  not 
follow  the  steps.  The  time  came  when  that  which  nature 
had  provided  was  trifling  compared  with  that  which  he 
could  produce  from  her  stores.  He  has  not  yet  fairly 
realized  that  the  resources  of  nature  are  practically  infi- 
nite ; but  he  begins  to  see  that  for  the  economical  exploi- 
tation of  these  he  needs  the  help  of  his  fellows,  working 
in  all  directions,  since  progress  in  any  direction  makes 
progress  in  every  other  easier.  In  all  this  the  use  of  his 
muscular  powers  steadily  gave  way  to  the  devices  con- 
trived by  his  mental  powers,  and  one  force  of  nature  was 
used  to  manipulate  another.  What  we  call  hand  labor  is 
not  that  at  all.  But  while  much  of  this  is  required  in 
some  lines  of  work,  it  is  greatly  outweighed  by  the 
forces  of  nature  applied  to  the  machinery  and  contriv- 
ances of  man.  In  by  far  the  greater  sphere  of  human 
industry  the  possession  of  great  physical  strength  is  of 
little  or  no  advantage,  while  skill  and  dexterity  are  indis- 
pensable. Brawn  is  now  at  the  foot  in  the  industrial 
scale  and  receives  the  smallest  reward.  Physical  devel- 
opment, except  so  far  as  it  contributes  to  health,  is  of  no 
importance  to  a very  large  proportion  of  the  human  race. 

The  combination  of  men,  in  the  beginning,  we  may 
be  perfectly  certain,  was  for  purely  utilitarian  purposes. 
There  were  at  this  stage  no  government,  no  law,  no  soci- 
ety, no  settled  customs  of  any  sort.  There  was  no  affec- 
tion on  man’s  part  toward  his  fellow,  the  members  of 
his  family  possibly  excepted.  But  combination  involves 
the  suspension,  at  least,  of  the  old  antagonisms.  He 
gave  up  some  things  in  order  that  he  might  gain  more. 
The  consequence,  beyond  the  immediate  end,  was  not 


ON  GROUNDS  OF  REASON 


89 


perceived  probably  at  all,  and  would  not  have  seemed 
an  object  worth  striving  after.  As  everywhere  else,  men 
here  moved  along  the  lines  of  least  resistance,  supplying 
the  necessities  with  the  smallest  expenditure  of  effort. 
But  this  was  a matter  of  give  and  take,  and  the  conces- 
sion of  something  to  another  soon  begot  the  idea  of  per- 
sonal and  property  rights.  The  areas  of  antagonism, 
therefore,  constantly  diminished,  while  the  community 
of  interest  as  constantly  increased. 

Now,  if  this  law  holds  good  throughout,  we  may  say 
that  the  time  will  come  when  all  antagonisms  will  be 
eliminated,  and  community  of  interest  will  become  uni- 
versal. I do  not  mean  by  this  that  there  will  be  common 
possession  of  property  ; for  so  far,  through  all  this  pro- 
gression, the  right  of  property  has  been  more  and  more 
distinctly  recognized.  With  closer  association  and  com- 
mon interests,  the  altruistic  spirit  found  a great  devel- 
opment. In  just  what  it  had  its  beginning  it  is  not 
necessary  here  to  decide.  I do  not  accept  the  view  of 
Mr.  Fiske  that  it  originated  in  and  because  of  the  length- 
ened period  of  infancy  in  the  human  race,  as  it  surely 
existed  in  a rudimentary  form  very  far  back  of  man.  It 
would  be  hard  to  show,  likewise,  that  affection  for  off- 
spring is  different  in  the  case  of  man  and  the  lower  animals, 
except  that  in  the  first  case  it  may  be  associated  with 
greater  prudence  and  intelligence ; nor  does  it  appear 
even  that  it  is  more  intense.  In  both  cases  it  serves  its 
purpose  of  protecting  the  young  until  they  are  ready  to 
shift  for  themselves.^  It  seems  to  me  that  it  would  have 

1 It  is  in  order,  also,  to  inquire  whether  Mr.  Fiske  has  not  put  the 
cause  for  the  effect.  Since  life  always  and  everywhere  does  not  what  it 


90 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


its  beginning  in  the  first  community  of  interest,  and  this 
would  be  found  almost  at  the  basis  of  life,  in  sex.  But  to 
whatever  circumstance  its  inception  may  be  due,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  in  its  development  it  has  kept  equal  step 
with  the  human  race.  If  I am  correct  in  my  view  of  its 
evolution,  the  condition  of  society  at  a given  stage  has  not 
been  the  planned  effort  of  an  earlier  age,  but  an  unfore- 
seen result.  Institutions  and  social  forms  have  not  been 
a definite  object  to  strive  for,  but  have  grown  out  of 
usage,  acquiesced  in  for  a considerable  period.  They  do 
not  represent  aspiration  so  much  as  history.  They  are 
a mere  crystallization  and  hardening  of  precedent. 
Immediate  utilitarian  ends  have  always  been  the  object, 
but  greater  ends  have  been  achieved  unsought.  Through- 
out his  whole  history  man  has  sought  to  supply  his  wants 
and  desires  in  the  easiest  way.  To  what  his  efforts  will 
finally  lead,  what  the  ultimate  power  in  the  universe  has 
planned  for  him,  we  need  not  determine. 

Wars  have  been  waged,  therefore,  because  they  seemed 
to  be  useful  in  supplying  immediate  ends  or  desires,  the 
gratification  of  revenge  being  one  of  them.  But  if  there 
is  anything  plain  in  the  lessons  of  history  and  of  political 

would  but  what  it  must,  is  it  not  the  case  that  the  care  provided  by  the 
parent,  making  exertion  on  the  part  of  the  infant  unnecessary,  accounts 
for  the  infant’s  helplessness  ? At  least  the  period  of  infancy  continues  to 
lengthen  not  as  a necessary  consequence  of  civilization  or  altruism,  but 
because  parental  solicitude  takes  away  more  and  more  the  incentives 
for  effort.  We  begin  to  see  now  what  could  not  be  found  in  primitive 
man,  great  numbers  of  people  in  whom  infancy  never  ends  at  all.  If, 
as  Professor  Drummond  argues,  the  claw  of  the  hermit  crab  furnishes  a 
case  of  degradation  because  of  the  disuse  of  that  member,  which  is  no 
longer  a necessity,  his  house  furnishing  the  necessary  protection,  will 
not  the  same  thing  explain  the  lengthening  period  of  infancy  ? 


ON  GROUNDS  OF  REASON 


91 


economy,  it  is  the  wastefulness  of  war.  It  produces 
absolutely  nothing  for  the  use  of  mankind,  though  pro- 
lific enough  in  devices  for  still  greater  waste  and  destruc- 
tion. The  distribution  in  the  form  of  plunder  of  that 
which  exists  is  accomplished  at  great  disadvantage  and 
loss.  Add  to  this  the  wanton  destruction  of  life  and 
property,  and  it  should  be  clear  to  the  dullest  that  the 
elimination  of  such  an  agency  would  be,  from  a strictly 
utilitarian  standpoint,  of  the  utmost  importance  to  the 
world,  somewhat  answering  to  but  greatly  exceeding  that 
of  the  substitution  of  money  and  credit  for  rude  barter  in 
commerce.  It  may  well  be  doubted  whether  the  most 
successful  war  in  modern  times  was  profitable  for  the 
victors.  What  has  it  been  to  the  vanquished  ? It  would 
seem  that  the  intelligence  of  man  ought  to  be  able 
to  find  a means  of  ridding  him  of  this  enormous  and 
unnecessary  burden. 

The  moral  aspects  of  the  case  have  been  so  much  dis- 
cussed and  are  so  well  understood  that  I shall  not'  here 
consider  them.  Wars  will  cease,  I believe,  only  when 
men  come  to  realize  that  they  do  not  pay.  It  may  be 
well,  however,  to  notice  that  since  the  successful  exploita- 
tion of  nature  requires  the  combined  efforts  of  mankind, 
and  since  such  a combination,  resting  on  confidence,  is 
dependent  on  the  moral  development  of  the  race,  then 
from  a purely  material  point  of  view  the  greatest  disas- 
ter is  not  the  destruction  of  life  and  property,  but  the 
degradation  of  the  moral  status.  Morally  and,  I believe, 
mentally  war  is  a complete  reversal  of  progress  and  a 
straight  return  toward  the  abysm  from  which  life  has 
emerged. 


92 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


A few  lesser  considerations  in  this  connection  should 
receive  brief  attention.  Man,  it  is  urged,  with  all  his 
great  advance,  remains  a fighting  animal.  Forcible 
resistance  to  any  encroachment  upon  his  rights  is  as 
instinctive  as  ever.  The  gaudiimi  certaminis  is  deeply 
imbedded  in  his  nature.  To  take  away  the  occasion  for 
that  supreme  effort  found  only  in  battle  would  be  to 
destroy  the  principle  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest,  and 
would  lead  to  physical  degeneration.  This  has  already 
been  considered  in  part.  It  is  perhaps  sufficient  to  add 
that  it  is  largely  a mistake  in  fact.  The  instinct  to  fight 
is  by  no  means  as  vigorous  as  with  primitive  man.  So 
far  as  it  exists,  it  is  a survival.  Neither  ape  nor  tiger  has 
been  eliminated  from  man,  but  they  are  slowly  dying. 
The  physical  development  of  man  is  no  longer  a first 
consideration.  Mr.  Fiske  has  noised  the  change  of  direc- 
tion in  human  development.  From  the  mere  animal 
standpoint,  the  joy  of  fight  is  well  enough  for  the  victor; 
but  what  is  it  to  the  vanquished  t To  the  windrows  of 
dead  or  mangled  men,  shot  through  with  bullets,  torn 
by  shells,  hacked  with  swords,  trampled  with  hoofs,  dis- 
membered, disemboweled,  joy  of  any  sort  has  ceased  to 
be  even  a memory. 

Finally,  as  to  the  argument  from  the  order  of  nature, 
it  must  be  said  that  it  is  inapplicable,  for  the  reason  that 
civilized  man  is  no  longer  in  that  order.  Physically  he  is 
of  course  at  the  head  of  it ; but  he  constitutes  a genus 
of  his  own.  As  a member  of  society  he  is  living  almost 
entirely  under  artificial  conditions.  He  cannot  escape 
his  physical  nature,  to  be  sure,  without  ceasing  to  live ; 
but  he  has  modified  it  in  many  ways,  bringing  it  into 


ON  GROUNDS  OF  REASON 


93 


subjection  to  ideals  of  right  rather  than  to  the  promptings 
of  inherited  appetites.  It  matters  not  that  the  new  con- 
ditions are  self-imposed.  They  exist  and  control  men 
just  as  truly,  if  not  as  extensively,  as  the  purely  natural 
conditions. 

Another  argument  gravely  put  forth  is  of  much 
greater  importance  seemingly  than  in  fact.  All  gov- 
ernment, we  are  told,  is  in  the  last  analysis  based  upon 
physical  force.  Law  has  no  self-executing  power,  and 
wherever  it  is  disregarded  or  is  inadequate  to  pre- 
serve order  the  military  force  must  be  called  in.  The 
entire  physical  strength  and  control  of  a community 
may  thus  be  required  to  suppress  revolt  against  the  law 
of  the  land.  Wrongdoing  is  and  ought  to  be  punished 
by  force,  pain,  or  death  inflicted  upon  the  body,  or  con- 
finement and  detention  against  the  will.  Children  and 
dependents  are  restrained  and  punished.  Communities, 
therefore,  that  show  themselves  criminal  or  hostile  to 
the  whole  order  of  civilization  should  be  annihilated  or 
controlled  by  the  more  advanced  nations.  Those  who 
are  incapable  of  managing  their  own  affairs  must,  in 
their  own  interest,  be  brought  into  subjection  to  nations 
that  know  how  to  govern  them.  The  highly  civilized 
nations  thus  enact  the  role  of  the  schoolmaster  or 
policeman. 

Here,  again,  the  question  turns  largely  upon  the  con- 
sideration of  data  already  given.  The  fact  is  that  the 
assumption  is  a fundamental  misconception.  It  has  been 
much  too  readily  conceded  by  those  who  deprecate  the 
inferences  drawn  from  it.  If  anything  is  clear  from  the 
preceding  discussion,  it  is  that  in  governments,  as  well  as 


94 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


in  individual  life,  physical  force  has  constantly  tended  to 
disappear,  being  transmuted  into  moral  force,  law,  cus- 
tom, habit,  precedent.  From  sheer  compulsion,  govern- 
ment more  and  more  rests  upon  consent  and  community 
of  interest.  A conquered  nation  or  community,  ruled  by 
a military  force,  would  not  rest  upon  the  consent  of  the 
governed,  but  it  would  be  very  far  removed  from  a gov- 
ernment of  pure  force.  That  profound  modification 
which  has  come  from  inheritance  and  training,  both  on 
the  part  of  conqueror  and  conquered,  is  an  immense  fac- 
tor in  the  actual  rule.  Since  the  time  of  primitive  man, 
and  even  in  the  rudimentary  government  of  animal  com- 
munities, the  basis  is  not  purely  physical.  An  element 
of  physical  force,  it  is  true,  remains  in  all  governments, 
much  greater  in  some  than  in  others,  but  in  all  govern- 
ments it  is  diminishing.  It  may  be  said  that  among 
certain  criminals  fear  is  the  only  motive  which  can  or 
does  restrain  from  crime.  Even  this  cannot  be  conceded 
without  qualification.  Among  the  most  hardened  some 
habits  of  obedience  to  authority  remain,  and  if  there  is 
not  much  respect  for  the  rights  of  property,  there  is, 
except  among  a small  minority,  considerable  respect  for 
life.  At  the  very  worst,  they  have  a certain  loyalty  to 
their  fellow  criminals,  and  some  organization  and  com- 
munity of  interest.  They  could  not  carry  on  their  nefa- 
rious business  without  it.  This  may  be  unfortunate  for 
■society,  but  it  none  the  less  defeats  the  proposition  in 
controversy.  With  reference  to  its  own  class,  it  presents 
some  analogy  to  the  association  of  wild  dogs  or  jackals 
for  the  purpose  of  plunder,  which  is  nevertheless  a 
remove  from  the  old  basis  of  absolute  physical  force, 


ON  GROUNDS  OF  REASON 


95 


and  a step  higher  in  the  mental  scale.  With  reference 
to  society,  it  presents  rather  the  aspect  of  two  commu- 
nities imperfectly  assimilated  and  in  partial,  not  total, 
antagonism  to  each  other. 

The  theory  carries  with  it  the  assumption  that  to  the 
support  of  any  law  the  entire  force  of  the  community 
may  be  brought.  The  person  or  persons  who  administer 
the  government  are  like  the  engineer  who  by  pulling  a 
lever  may  apply  to  the  turning  of  his  wheels  the  entire 
expansive  force  of  the  steam  which  can  be  generated 
from  the  water  in  his  boiler  through  the  potential  energy 
of  the  coal  in  the  tender.  As  a fact,  nothing  of  the  sort 
can  be  done.  But  if  all  the  energy  of  a nation  could 
be,  as  it  were,  gathered  into  a single  hand,  upon  what 
domestic  concern  could  it  be  expended  ? The  very  prop- 
osition is  contradictory.  If  a part  of  the  community  is 
in  revolt  against  the  law,  the  entire  power  of  the  com- 
munity is  not  united,  nor  can  it  be  used  by  any  central 
authority.  If  the  opposition  amounted  to  a large  minor- 
ity, it  would  be  civil  war.  If  exactly  divided,  a condition 
never  realized  in  actual  practice,  then  the  expenditure  of 
the  entire  physical  force  of  the  community  would  be  to 
annihilate  the  entire  community. 

Further,  it  should  be  observed  that  whatever  portion 
of  the  force  of  the  community  a government  can  bring 
to  bear  upon  an  opposing  or  rebellious  faction,  it  must 
wield  it  through  mental  and  moral  agencies.  These 
agencies,  it  will  be  conceded,  must  consent  to  its  em- 
ployment. Now,  while  “the  king  (the  government)  can 
do  no  wrong,”  his  ministers  can.  The  most  absolute 
of  monarchs  has  sometimes  run  counter  to  the  moral 


96 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


sentiment  of  the  community  over  which  he  rules,  — and 
has  at  once  found  the  physical  force  divided,  and  the 
weightier  portion  arrayed  against  himself.  In  this 
country  the  fugitive  slave  law  is  a good  case  in  point. 
It  was  as  truly  a law,  duly  and  legally  enacted,  as  any 
ever  placed  upon  the  statute  books.  Was  there  ever  a 
time  when  more  than  a small  fraction  of  the  physical 
force  of  the  nation  could  have  been  invoked  in  its  sup- 
port ? Governments,  therefore,  derive  not  only  their  just 
powers,  in  the  language  of  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence, but  all  their  powers,  from  the  consent  of  the 
governed.  Consent  is  not  approval.  In  most  cases  it 
is  given  blindly,  with  no  clear  perception  of  what  is 
involved.  Some  citizens  strongly  disapprove  the  policy 
of  their  government  as  to  some  things,  while  approving 
it  in  its  general  features.  But  even  if  the  disapproval 
were  very  emphatic,  and  extended  to  most  things,  they 
might  still  consent.  This  is  always  the  case  as  long  as 
they  use  only  such  means  of  influence  to  change  an  act 
or  policy  as  the  structure  of  the  government  itself  pro- 
vides, — failing  in  which  they  acquiesce.  On  a purely 
physical  basis  they  must  needs  use  in  opposition  their 
physical  force,  however  inadequate  to  the  extremity. 
When  a man  or  body  of  men  submits  instead  of  fighting 
to  the  death,  it  is  a misuse  of  wotds  to  say  that  they 
have  yielded  to  physical  ^orce.  They  have  acted  under 
the  dominion  of  ideas  of  wisdom  and  prudence,  which 
are  moral  ideas  born,  it  may  be,  of  experience.  And  if 
they,  then  the  other  constituent  factors,  are  living  under 
the  control  of  ideas,  and  the  government  does  not  rest 
on  a basis  of  physical  force.  In  arriving  at  a modus 


ON  GROUNDS  OF  REASON 


97 


vivendi,  men  yield  something  which  they  would  prefer 
to  keep,  yet  they  consent  to  the  burdens  and  restric- 
tions, not  because  they  enjoy  or  even  approve  them  for 
themselves,  but  because  they  are  less  unpleasant  than 
those  they  must  endure  but  for  the  status  which  the 
law  gives  them.  TFp  worst  government  ever  instituted  , 
among  men  is^better  thnn  a cnnditieri-of-ptuie  anarr.h-v. 
though  it  may  well  be  questioned  whether  there  ever 
was  such  a condition  among  men.  We  may,  therefore, 
strenuously  object  to  a particular  law,  custom,  or  policy. 

It  may  be  unfavorable  to  our  individual  interests,  or 
even  repugnant  to  our  moral  sense,  and  yet  we  should 
feel  that  a resort  to  physical  force,  even  if  successful, 
would  be  disastrous.  Governments,  though  of  man’s  own 
making,  are  a part  of  the  fixed  or  slowly  changing 
conditions  under  which  he  lives.  Man’s  effort  has  been 
and  always  must  be  to  adapt  himself  to  the  moral,  intel- 
lectual, and  social,  as  well  as  to  the  material  conditions  in 
which  he  is  placed.  For  better  or  for  worse,  his  world 
will  slowly  change;  but  he  will  change  in  and  with  it. 
He  can  no  more  turn  back  his  ideas  and  habits  than 
he  can  turn  his  physical  structure  back  into  that  of  his 
simian  ancestor.  That  would  be  to  annihilate  not  merely 
the  progress  of  the  past,  but  the  roadway  over  which 
it  came.  We  submit,  then,  to  burdens  which  we  be- 
lieve to  be  unnecessary  or  unjust,  rather  than  be  thrown 
back  on  the  old  antagonism  and  endless  and  uncompro- 
mising conflicts.  We  follow,  let  me  repeat  once  more 
the  formula,  the  lines  of  least  resistance.  In  doing  this, 
the  altruistic  sentiment  develops  as  we  have  seen. 
Finally  we  come  to  take  a vicarious  pride  in  the  common 


98 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


progress  and  attainment,  quite  aside  from  a question  of 
personal  advantage.  The  appreciation  of  the  utility  of 
government  is,  in  time,  transmuted  into  a habit  of  rever- 
ence for  law  and  custom,  as  fixed  as  religion  and  not  a 
whit  more  based  upon  physical  force. 

It  must  not  be  inferred  that  I hold  a government  to 
be  desirable  or  just  which  disregards  the  approval  of  its 
citizens  or  the  preponderance  of  intelligent  and  delib- 
erate choice  of  the  governed.  I am  merely  looking  to 
the  sanctions  of  government,  the  basis  upon  which  it 
rests.  It  would  be  just  as  true  to  say  that  family  gov- 
ernment rests  on  a physical  basis.  There  was  a time 
when  the  father  might  take  the  life  of  his  child,  or  the 
owner  of  his  slave.  In  England,  until  a recent  date,  it 
was  the  right  of  a man  to  beat  his  wife  with  a stick  not 
thicker  than  his  thumb;  she  was  fortunate  whose  hus- 
band’s hands  were  slender  and  delicate.  Within  a gen- 
eration the  most  cruel  punishments  have  been  authorized 
and  employed  in  schools,  the  teacher,  or  master  as  he 
was  called,  standing  in  loco  parentis.  In  England,  up  to 
a very  recent  date,  the  most  trivial  offenses  were  pun- 
ishable by  death.  In  Elizabeth’s  time  the  authorities 
captured  a hundred  beggars  at  once, : — men  indeed  who 
did  not  hesitate  at  violence  when  necessary  in  their  trade, 
— hung  fifty  of  them  at  one  time,  and  only  regretted 
that,  from  the  nature  of  the  offenses,  some  technical 
grounds  compelled  them  to  await  the  next  assize  before 
hanging  the  rest.  Yet  Elizabeth’s  reign  was  a prolonged 
effort  to  avoid  war,  not,  to  be  sure,  so  much  from 
humanitarian  as  from  economic  reasons.  It  was  the  most 
fruitful  period,  too,  in  English  history,  not  only  in  moral 
and  intellectual  but  also  in  industrial  development. 


ON  GROUNDS  OF  REASON 


99 


The  plain  fact  is  that  both  in  municipal  and  in  family 
government  physical  force  is  more  and  more  giving  way 
to  the  control  of  ideas.  Even  in  the  treatment  of  crimi- 
nals, once  regarded  as  outcasts  to  whom  the  public  owed 
no  duty,  there  has  been  an  immense  infusion  of  moral 
force,  to  the  greatest  advantage  both  of  the  criminal  and 
the  public.  Some  remnants  of  physical  force  are  destined 
to  remain  for  a long  time,  perhaps  always,  in  the  treat- 
ment of  the  untaught  and  inexperienced;  but  it  is  now 
evident  that,  whatever  the  moral  deficiency,  wrongdoing 
of  all  sorts  is  mainly  through  lack  of  perspective.  Its  cure 
is  a wider  intelligence. 

What  should  we  do,  however,  if  the  moral  forces  broke 
down,  leaving  the  government  without  support.?  Noth- 
ing. There  would  be  nothing  to  do,  and  no  one  to  do  it. 
What  should  we  do  if  the  earth  fell  into  the  sun  ? 

Again  we  are  confidently  told  that  war  brings  about 
conditions  which  insure  prolonged  peace.  On  its  face 
this  seems  something  like  a bull,  but  it  is  gravely  urged. 
It  may  be  that  when  one  nation  has  completely  crushed 
another  a permanent  peace  between  the  two  is  secured. 
It  is  the  case  of  the  lamb  lying  down  inside  of  the 
lion.  History  does  not,  however,  offer  much  encourage- 
ment for  a long  continuance  of  even  this  sort  of  peace. 
Nations  are  not,  in  modern  times,  wholly  destroyed  by 
war.  The  rapid  recuperation  of  a nation  apparently  com- 
pletely exhausted,  the  ever-renewed  conflict  with  its 
neighbor,  now  defeated  and  now  victorious,  is  the  spec- 
tacle held  out  to  our  view.  Assuming  that  two  nations 
must  fight  sometime,  a war  this  year  may  prevent  a war 
ten  years- hence,  more  destructive  because  entered  upon 
with  greater  preparation  and  resources  on  both  sides. 


lOO 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


The  nation  now  the  stronger  or  better  prepared  will 
attack  at  once  instead  of  waiting  for  its  enemy  fully  to 
develop  its  destructive  agencies.  But  let  us  not  here  con- 
fuse two  entirely  different  considerations.  The  strong 
nation  will  force  the  fighting  because  of  its  reliance  upon 
its  greater  physical  force.  The  weaker  one  will  yield  long 
before  its  powers  are  exhausted,  from  the  conviction  that 
it  must  yield  at  last.  It  acts  upon  intellectual  and  moral 
considerations,  therefore,  at  least  in  part,  and  uses  its 
purely  physical  forces  only  far  enough  to  satisfy  what  it 
calls  its  “honor.”  Nothing  is  settled  by  the  appeal  to 
arms  except  the  question  which  of  the  parties  is  the 
stronger  at  the  time.  The  vanquished  nation  does  not 
change  its  opinion  as  to  the  rights  of  the  controversy, 
and  if  the  time  should  come  when  it  is  strong  enough 
successfully  to  recover  its  losses  or  enforce  its  demands 
it  has  no  hesitation  in  doing  so.  Nations  never  stand 
still,  but  grow  or  decline  from  causes  within  themselves. 
No  nation  has  ever  for  a very  long  period  maintained  its 
physical  superiority  to  its  neighbors.  Somewhere  in  its 
history  the  balance  changes,  and  that  nation  which  has 
cowed  and  bullied  other  nations,  harried  their  coasts, 
razed  their  cities,  destroyed  their  warriors,  and  dashed 
the  heads  of  children  against  the  wall  falls  itself  into 
decadence  and  becomes  in  turn  the  prey  to  all  the  evils 
it  has  inflicted  in  the  day  of  its  pride.  No,  it  is  a 
strange  delusion  to  suppose  that  peace  can  be  insured 
through  fighting. 

There  is  one  way  in  which  it  might  seem  that  all  the 
physical  force  of  the  world  could  be  united  and  so  find  no 
further  use  for  itself  in  war.  If  some  powerful  nation 


ON  GROUNDS  OF  REASON 


lOI 


could  conquer  and  absorb  its  neighbors  one  by  one,  such 
a result  might  follow ; and  we  may  conceive  conditions 
under  which  this  might  be  desirable.  Such  conditions 
do  not  now  exist,  and  there  is  no  certainty  that  they 
ever  will.  A single  government  for  the  whole  world,  if 
once  established,  could  not  long  be  maintained,  as  evi- 
dently it  would  not  subserve  a useful  purpose.  It  would 
be  impossible  that  all  municipal  government  should  be 
administered  from  a single  source.  The  diverse  condi- 
tions in  different  parts  of  the  earth  compel  different 
manners,  customs,  and  laws.  To  bring  all  races  and 
peoples  into  a uniform  system  is  as  hopeless  as  to  try 
to  bring  into  uniformity  all  differences  of  climate  and 
soil.  But  no  nation  could  long  pursue  this  process  of 
assimilation,  however  benevolent  it  may  seem.  The  one 
which  is  being  swallowed  will  never  look  at  it  in  that 
light.  If  it  does  not  go  to  pieces  from  internal  causes, 

there  will  soon  be  a combination  of  other  strong  nations 

/ 

against  it.  These  will  persist  in  attributing  all  its  self- 
sacrificing  zeal  for  the  good  of  the  world  to  plain  greed. 
“I  came  for  your  good,”  cried  one  of  the  Norman  kings 
upon  landing  upon  English  soil ; and,  less  skillful  in 
the  use  of  the  language  than  in  arms,  he  added,  “ I 
came  for  all  your  goods.”  And  thus  it  will  ever  be 
regarded.  But  combinations  can  never  be  relied  on  to 
preserve  permanent  peace,  for  the  reason  that  the  parties 
to  the  combination  have  their  controversies  with  each 
other,  according  to  their  several  interests.  They  get  rid 
of  no  antagonisms  by  mere  combination,  but  strive  so  to 
balance  force  against  force  that  both  or  all  nations  shall 
be  unable  to  act.  The  relative  weight  of  the  groups. 


102 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


however,  cannot  be  maintained,  for  reasons  heretofore 
stated.  It  is  impossible  for  a nation  exactly  to  gauge 
its  own  strength  or  that  of  its  adversary.  To  ascertain 
whether  there  is  a balance,  resort  must  be  had  to  that 
contest  which  it  is  the  object  of  the  balance  to  prevent. 
It  is  conceded  that  the  European  concert  has  sometimes 
delayed  or  prevented  wars.  It  has  made  every  nation 
cautious  about  entering  upon  a course  which  would 
involve  such  horrible  consequences.  All  Europe  might 
now  be  drawn  into  collision,  and  with  the  dreadful  de- 
structiveness of  modern  appliances  the  bloodshed  would 
be  appalling,  even  to  such  as  delight  in  the  glory  of 
slaughter.  The  operation  of  the  concert  is,  therefore, 
moral  rather  than  physical.  A true  balance  of  power  is 
obviously  no  more  possible  than  a perfect  equilibrium 
of  the  physical  forces  of  the  universe.  It  must  be  con- 
stantly adjusted.  The  attempt  of  a nation  to  make  such 
additions  to  its  armament  year  by  year  as  will  insure  its 
superiority  to  any  combination  which  may  be  formed 
against  it  is  equally  futile.  There  is  a point  beyond 
which  the  strain  cannot  be  endured.  It  is  impossible  to 
tell  in  advance  what  force  it  may  be  called  upon  to  meet. 
Almost  every  nation  of  Europe  has,  at  some  period  of 
its  history,  been  now  in  alliance,  and  again  at  war,  with 
every  other. 

To  use  force  to  prevent  force,  or  so  to  array  or  dis- 
tribute it  as  to  make  it  inoperative,  would  seem  to  be 
hopeless.  The  alternative  is  to  dispense  with  it  as  a 
means  of  settling  national  disputes  altogether.  So  long 
as  force  is  recognized  as  a proper  means  of  gaining  its 
ends,  a nation  with  a great  standing  army,  equipped  with 


ON  GROUNDS  OF  REASON 


103 


the  most  approved  devices  for  slaughter,  will  resort  to  it 
as  against  a weaker  nation  or  one  it  deems  such.  But  if 
six  months  or  a year  were  necessary  for  getting  ready 
to  fight,  the  hot  blood  would  have  a chance  to  cool,  and 
reason  and  moderation  on  both  sides  would  find  means 
of  just  and  honorable  accommodation.  There  is  not  the 
slightest  question  that  the  carrying  of  arms  by  private 
citizens  leads  to  very  numerous  breaches  of  the  peace 
and  homicides,  contrary  both  to  the  law  and  public  sen- 
timent. How  much  more  does  the  carrying  of  arms  by 
nations  lead  to  collisions,  not  forbidden  by  international 
law,  and  applauded  by  the  clergy ! It  is  not  for  me  to 
show  that  disarmament  is  practicable.  If  impracticable, 
it  is  not  because  it  would  not  subserve  a vast  utility,  but 
from  causes  that  lie  outside  of  reason.  One  nation  may 
suspect  that  the  others  will  not  act  in  good  faith,  but 
will  secretly  retain  some  part  of  their  armament  or  the 
means  for  its  speedy  rehabilitation.  This  means  that 
nations  cannot  trust  to  or  act  upon  those  pledges  and 
assurances  which  are  relied  on  between  individuals.  It 
means  not  that  their  fear  and  distrust  are  reasonable, 
but  that  these  survive  in  international  relations  long 
after  the  necessities  out  of  which  they  grew  have  disap- 
peared. Another  reason,  possibly  more  potent,  is  found 
in  the  sentiment  of  honor,  so  called,  which  we  have 
already  noticed.  All  the  considerations  which  favor  this 
sentiment  can  be  urged  just  as  favorably  with  reference 
to  individual  honor.  A century  ago  the  duel  was  in 
almost  universal  favor  as  a means  of  settling  disputes 
where  “honor”  was  involved,  and  this  could  be  imported 
into  almost  any  dispute.  But  the  duel  has  nearly 


104 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


disappeared  among  the  English-speaking  peoples,  and 
is  coming  into  disfavor  elsewhere.  In  Germany  it  is 
defended  not  on  moral  grounds,  nor  yet  as  a desirable 
means  of  settling  civil  controversies,  but  as  aiding  to 
keep  up  the  morale  of  the  army.  The  army  officer  must 
not  be  moved  by  the  considerations  which  prevail  among 
good  citizens,  but  by  the  conventions  of  a military  code. 
This  goes  so  far  that  a year  or  two  ago  an  officer  who  was 
jostled  on  a sidewalk  drew  his  sword  and  killed  a peace- 
able citizen,  and  was  commended  for  the  act.  Yet,  apart 
from  some  such  brutalities,  kept  alive  in  the  interest  of 
“ honor,”  it  can  hardly  be  said  that  Germans  are  less 
humane  than  Americans  or  Englishmen.  Their  “ honor  ” 
is  somewhat  more  virulent  and  pestiferous.^ 

Six  hundred  years  before  Christ,  Buddha  laid  down 
the  rule  which  forever  excludes  the  employment  of  phys- 
ical force  for  the  settlement  of  disputes.  The  prop- 
osition appears  again  and  again,  and  in  one  place  is 
illustrated  by  a sort  of  parable.  King  Brahmadatta  had 
made  war  on  a weaker  king,  driven  him  from  his  king- 
dom, and  appropriated  it.  The  exiled  king,  after  many 
wanderings,  settles  down  in  disguise  in  a potter’s  dwell- 
ing, just  outside  of  Benares.  He  lives  a peaceable  and 
harmless  life,  educates  his  son,  but  many  years  after- 
wards is  discovered  by  Brahmadatta,  who  puts  him  to 
death,  together  with  his  queen.  On  his  way  to  execu- 
tion he  sees  his  son,  who  has  returned  for  a visit,  and 

1 At  a recent  General  Synod  of  the  State  Church  of  Prussia,  a reso- 
lution was  introduced  condemning  dueling  as  “sinful.”  Although  it 
was  carried,  it  was  opposed  by  a large  minority,  both  lay  and  clerical.  As 
usual,  it  w^as  sought  to  justify  the  practice  on  the  authority  of  the  Old 
Testament. 


ON  GROUNDS  OF  REASON  105 

manages,  without  betraying  his  relationship,  to  give  him 
an  important  piece  of  advice.  The  son  afterwards 
obtains,  in  disguise,  service  under  Brahmadatta,  who 
presently  becomes  very  fond  of  him.  While  hunting 
one  day  the  king  became  separated  from  his  retinue, 
save  this  young  man,  and  worn  out  with  fatigue  he  lay 
down  and  slept  with  his  head  in  his  lap.  Then  the  young 
man  thought : “ This  king  Brahmadatta  has  done  us 
great  injury ; he  robbed  us  of  our  kingdom  and  slew  my 
father  and  my  mother  ; he  is  now  in  my  power.”  Think- 
ing thus,  he  unsheathed  his  sword.  The  king  awakes  in 
fright,  for  he  has  had  a dream,  which  often  haunts  him, 
that  the  son  of  the  murdered  king  will  slay  him.  He 
relates  his  dream  ; and  the  youth  lays  his  left  hand  upon 
the  king’s  head,  and  with  the  right  draws  his  sword,  with 
these  startling  words : “ I am  Dirghayu,  the  son  of 
Dirgheti,  whom  you  have  robbed  of  his  kingdom  and 
slain,  with  his  wife,  my  mother.  The  time  of  revenge 
has  come.”  If  there  ever  was  a case  where  revenge  is 
proper,  this  would  seem  to  be  one.  The  king  begs  for 
his  life,  to  which  Dirghayu  replies,  without  any  bitter- 
ness : “How  can  I grant  you  your  life,  O King,  since 
my  life  is  endangered  by  you  ? It  is  you,  O King,  who 
must  grant  me  my  life.”  In  the  end,  each  grants  the 
other  life,  and,  clasping  hands,  they  swear  not  to  harm 
each  other.  The  young  man  now  explains  his  father’s 
last  words,  those  which  more  especially  concern  us  being 
these : “Not  by  hatred  is  hatred  appeased  ; hatred  is 
appeased  by  not-hatred.”  It  means:  “You  have  killed 
my  father  and  mother,  O King.  If  I should  deprive  you 
of  life,  then  your  partisans  would  deprive  me  of  life.  My 


io6 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


partisans  again  would  deprive  those  of  life.  Thus  by 
hatred  hatred  would  not  be  appeased.  But  now,  O King, 
you  have  granted  me  my  life,  and  I have  granted  you 
your  life  ; thus  by  not-hatred  hatred  has  been  appeased.” 

The  same  lesson  reappears  in  the  Laureate’s  verse, 
said  to  be  founded  on  an  Irish  legend.  A chieftain  sails 
with  his  clan  to  revenge  the  death  of  his  father  ; but  as 
they  come  to  the  island  of  his  enemy  they  are  blown 
away  across  seas,  and  come  one  after  another  to  marvel, 
ous  islands  and  meet  with  wondrous  adventures,  and 
after  fighting  among  themselves  a little  remnant  come 
to  the  isle  of  a saint,  who  urges  the  chief  to  give  up 
the  strife. 

His  fathers  have  slain  thy  fathers,  in  war  or  in  single  strife  ; 

Thy  fathers  have  slain  his  fathers,  each  taken  a life  for  a life  ; 

Thy  father  had  slain  his  father  ; how  long  shall  the  murder  last? 
Go  back  to  the  isle  of  Finn,  and  suffer  the  Past  to  be  Past. 

He  obeys,  and  on  the  return  voyage  they  come  to  the 
isle  from  which  they  had  been  blown  ; 

and  there  on  the  shore  was  he,  — 

The  man  who  had  slain  my  father ; I saw  him  and  let  him  be. 


VI 


SOME  OBJECTIONS 

But,  it  may  be  objected,  conceding  that  war  is  irra- 
tional, what  is  gained  by  demonstrating  that  fact  ? Do 
you  suppose  that  men  will  stop  fighting  because  it  is 
foolish  ? Men  may  admit  that  anger  is  a brief  madness, 
but  they  will  get  angry  just  the  same.  Grant  that  this 
all  grows  out  of  prejudice,  shortsightedness,  selfishness, 
pig-headedness,  what  you  will,  nevertheless  this  is  a part 
of  the  limitation  and  environment  of  men,  as  much  as 
their  education  and  knowledge.  As  a practical  matter, 
we  have  to  take  men  as  we  find  them.  The  time  will 
come  when  men  will  realize  the  folly  of  fighting ; but 
that  time  is  far  in  the  future.  Until  some  practical 
means  has  been  devised  by  which  international  differ- 
ences can  be  settled  justly  and  with  honor  to  all  parties, 
war  must  continue.  It  is  not  wrong  for  men  to  do  the 
best  they  can.  The  Creator  has  not  made  men  perfect, 
and  as  yet  they  have  not  attained  to  a high  degree  of 
wisdom.  He  has  put  into  operation  a principle  of  progress, 
which  will  indeed  in  the  end  banish  war  ; but  that  happy 
time  may  be  ages,  eons,  in  the  future.  Meantime,  the 
conditions  which  lead  to  war  are  not  of  man’s  making,  but 
are  prescribed  by  that  Power  which  through  a practical 
eternity  has  brought  him  by  slow  gradations  up  from  the 
formless  protoplasm  to  his  present  capacities.  So  here  you 
have  an  objection  based  on  good  evolutionary  grounds. 

107 


io8 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


Very  good.  If  war  really  originates  not  in  the  will  of 
man  but  in  the  conditions  imposed  upon  him  from  with- 
out, it  is  idle  to  argue  the  question  of  right  or  utility. 
It  would  be  like  discussing  the  moral  aspects  of  the 
tornado,  the  earthquake,  or  the  great  geological  upheavals 
and  subsidences,  making  of  a given  area  of  the  earth’s 
surface  now  land  and  now  sea.  If,  from  the  standpoint 
of  Omniscience  and  regarding  some  far-off  and  vast 
design  working  out  on  lines  which  the  human  intellect 
cannot  comprehend  or  even  detect,  there  are  utilities  in 
these,  they  are  such  as  do  not  seem  to  relate  to  the 
immediate  interests  of  men  or  to  the  good  of  the  indi- 
vidual at  all.  We  cannot  regard  them  as  initial  move- 
ments, originating  in  the  immediate  will  of  God,  but  as 
consequences  of  inconceivably  vast  forces  put  into  play 
in  the  incredibly  remote  past,  working  out  their  results 
in  accordance  with  their  own  nature,  with  no  direct  rela- 
tion to  the  welfare  of  man.  Life  has  simply  adapted 
itself  to  or  grown  out  of  its  conditions.  Man  takes 
things  as  he  finds  them  and  does  the  best  he  can,  some- 
times surviving  and  sometimes  perishing  in  this  conflict 
or  play  of  forces. 

If,  indeed,  we  eliminate  the  human  will  from  the  ques- 
tion, we  need  argue  no  farther  on  either  side.  This  is  to 
dispose  of  the  contention  by  eliminating  its  subject-mat- 
ter, life  being  purely  irresponsible  and  automatic.  There 
can  be  neither  utility  nor  right  in  action  that  is  a matter 
of  sheer  necessity  or  mechanics.  Thus,  indeed,  we  may 
saddle  the  responsibility  for  war  on  the  Author  of  the 
universe.  It  hardly  need  be  pointed  out  that  the  same 
consideration  would  eliminate  all  responsibility  from 


SOME  OBJECTIONS 


109 


individual  human  action.  Law  is  based  upon  the  assump- 
tion that  the  will  controls  the  individual  action,  and 
when  a case  arises  in  which  the  will  has  not  been  exer- 
cised, as  in  an  accident  or  where  the  person  is  incapa- 
ble of  reason  and  so  of  exercising  discrimination,  such 
a person  is  not  held  responsible  for  the  consequence  of 
his  acts.  I shall  direct  my  argument  only  to  such  as 
believe  that  the  will  of  man  is  as  certainly  in  control  of 
the  movements  leading  to  and  directing  wars  as  in  any 
of  the  activities  of  life ; that  nations  go  to  war  because 
they  want  to,  influenced  by  definite  motives,  from  sup- 
posed advantage,  or  to  gratify  some  feeling  of  animosity  ; 
that  national  quarrels  come  about  exactly  like  individual 
quarrels,  but,  as  I shall  show,  are  far  more  controllable, 
certain  prejudices  aside,  than  the  latter.  It  is  not  true 
that  some  unseen  and  irresistible  power  places  nations  in 
positions  from  which  there  is  no  escape  save  through  the 
chances  of  battle,  — which  is,  in  another  form,  the  propo- 
sition that  war  is  a part  of  the  order  of  nature. 

I am  under  no  constraint  to  prove  that  war  will  cease 
because  it  ought  to.  I believe  it  will,  and  that  this  may 
be  much  nearer  at  hand  than  the  most  hopeful  have 
imagined.  I believe  that  if  a single  generation  could 
pass  without  war,  the  international  court  already  pro- 
vided by  the  Conference  at  The  Hague  having  come  in 
the  meantime  to  be  recognized  as  an  actual  fact,  future 
wars  between  civilized  nations  would  be  impossible.  As 
I write,  however,  there  is  nothing  to  indicate  any  such 
cheerful  prospect,  but  rather  the  threat  of  more  tre- 
mendous and  appalling  wars  than  the  world  has  yet  seen, 
the  awful  destructiveness  of  which  may  make  men  turn 


I lO 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


to  rational  methods  of  settling  future  controversies. 
What  I am  held  to  show  by  my  thesis  is  that  war  is 
irrational.  I shall  not  argue  that  it  is  wrong.  In  the 
abstract  this  is  almost  everywhere  admitted;  but  as 
the  moral  sentiment  of  a country  exercises  in  times  of 
pa^ion  no  controlling  force,  this  admission  has  no  prac- 
tical bearing.  The  moral  loss  to  a community  in  the 
lowering  of  the  whole  tone  of  society,  the  blurring  of 
the  moral  perceptions,  the  deadening  of  conscience,  the 
disregard  of  the  recognized  distinctions  between  right 
and  wrong,  I shall  pass  over.  They  have  been  suffi- 
ciently emphasized  by  moralists  already.  What  I desire, 
but  can  hope  to  do  but  slightly,  is  to  convince  men  that 
war  is  unprofitable,  a clumsy  agency,  which  no  longer 
serves  a useful  purpose  and  in  the  evolution  of  the  race 
ought  no  longer  to  survive.  If  men  ever  become  fully 
convinced  that  their  interests  are  all  subserved  by  peace, 
that  they  have  nothing  to  gain  by  war  but  everything  to 
lose,  then  war  will  cease. 

On  some  points  I shall  agree  with  my  adversary 
quickly.  Prejudice,  passion,  self-interest  are  a part  of 
the  limitation  of  men,  and  must  be  taken  into  the 
account.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  there  will  ever 
come  a time  when  they  will  not  exist,  and  indeed  this 
might  not  be  wholly  desirable.  TaYsion  and  self-interest, 
if  not  selfishness,  are  among  the  dynamics  of  life.  They 
are  the  basis  of  motive  and  action.  What  men  might  be 
without  them  I do  not  know.  Prejudice  is  merely  the 
inclination  to  do  the  thing  we  have  done  and  with  which 
we  are  acquainted,  the  preference  for  the  known  over 
the  unknown,  which  must  always  be  a necessity  in  a life 


SOME  OBJECTIONS 


III 


of  progress.  It  is  often  very  exasperating  to  those  who 
have  passed  beyond  the  phase  of  knowledge  and  experi- 
ence in  which  it  originated.  It  is  often  a serious  check 
to  progress,  always  acting  as  a brake,  but  it  is  also  gen- 
erally a safety-brake.  As  the  race  advances,  the  preju- 
dices of  to-day  will  disappear,  but  others  will  take  their 
place  and  subserve  the  same  uses  and  become  the  same 
hindrances  with  regard  to  still  greater  advances  in  the 
more  distant  future.  Can  we  then  hope  for  a time  when 
misunderstandings  and  disputes  will  not  arise.?  By  no 
means.  But  when  prejudice  and  self-interest  shall  urge 
the  preservation  of  peace,  the  motives  which  now  lead 
straight  to  war  will  be  the  forces  to  prevent  it. 

We  must  not  expect  men  to  act  in  advance  of  their 
knowledge.  They  cannot  apply  a principle  before  it  is 
discovered.  Liquefied  air  may  perhaps  in  the  future 
i work  an  industrial  revolution,  but  it  is  not  irrational  for 
men  now  to  employ  steam  and  electricity ; but  knowing 
these,  if  they  were  to  return  to  the  ox-cart  for  the 
transportation  of  goods  and  passengers,  they  would  be 
i irrational.  Yet  the  latter  means  once  represented  an 
enormous  advance  over  the  time  when  man  knew  no 
other  means  of  locomotion  than  his  own  legs,  and 
when  he  carried  his  scanty  belongings  on  his  bare  back. 
Rationality  does  not  require  that  men  do  better  than 
they  know  how,  but  only  as  well  as  they  know.  Its  test 
is  the  employment  of  such  means  as  man  has  to  the 
5 accomplishment  of  useful  ends.  Men  differ  immensely 
f in  knowledge  and  capacity,  but  the  savage  and  the  weak- 
ling  are  still  rational.  Nations  differ  in  the  degree  of 
i their  civilization  and  ability  to  supply  their  wants  through 

k 


I 12 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


industry,  but  even  in  the  most  barbarous  a high  degree 
of  rationality  exists. 

War  is  irrational  not  merely  because  it  is  wrong  or  cruel 
or  a clumsy,  uneconomical,  and  inept  agency  for  settling 
differences,  but  because  men  knowing  a better  method 
still  resort  to  it.  Nay,  they  have  actually  employed  the 
better  in  numberless  cases,  with  an  enormous  saving  of 
life  and  property.  They  see  perfectly  the  desirability  of 
employing  it  in  all  cases,  and  yet  they  do  not  do  it.  All 
men  of  course  have  not  seen  this,  and  it  is  not  necessary 
to  its  employment  that  they  should.  Not  all  understand 
the  steam  engine  and  telephone.  The  nations  are  elect- 
ing in  this  matter  to  use  the  ox-cart,  for  some  occasions, 
when  they  might  employ  the  railroad  train.  Imagine  the 
cost  of  an  international  court  to  reach  the  extravagant 
sum  of  a million  dollars  a year ; this  would  perhaps  be 
one  tenth  of  one  per  cent  of  the  cost  of  the  armaments 
made  necessary  under  existing  conditions.  What,  then, 
hinders  its  adoption  for  the  settlement  of  all  international 
questions } Self-interest  should  be  the  most  powerful 
factor  in  its  favor.  Prejudice  there  may  be,  and  distrust; 
yet  we  have  seen  how  little  these  interfere  with  the 
peaceful  conduct  of  commercial  life,  and  how  rapidly  in 
fact  they  are  disappearing.  Honesty  has  come  to  be 
recognized  as  one  of  the  most  important  factors  in  any 
large  and  permanent  success.  The  intercourse  of  nations 
as  such  is  less  ingenuous  than  that  between  individuals 
of  these  nations;  but  there  has  been  a great  change 
within  the  last  century.  Diplomacy  does  not  display  its 
hand,  but  it  does  not  carry,  like  Ah  Sin,  twenty-four 
packs  of  cards  up  its  sleeves.  A large  amount  of  candor 


SOME  OBJECTIONS 


II3 

now  enters  into  it,  and  a large  confidence  is  reposed  in 
the  pledge  of  a nation  through  its  accredited  agent.  A 
few  generations  back  statecraft  was  the  embodiment  of 
skillful  lying,  treachery,  and  deceit.  Engagements  were 
entered  upon  for  the  mere  purpose  of  disarming  suspi- 
cion, without  the  slightest  intention  of  fulfillment.  An 
alliance  with  one  power  would  be  made,  and  at  the  same 
moment  an  engagement  entered  into  with  a second,  bind- 
ing the  nation  to  make  war  on  the  first.  Its  whole  object 
was  to  conceal  the  intended  move,  so  as  to  catch  the 
other  party  off  guard. 

Now  at  the  Peace  Conference  it  was  conceded  gener- 
ally that  commercial  and  industrial  questions  could  be 
profitably  settled  in  an  international  court,  but  it  was 
urged  by  many  that  there  were  questions  of  honor  of 
which  a nation  must  be  its  own  judge.  This  is  unques- 
tionably the  sore  spot.  Where  it  is  a matter  of  interest 
only,  a strong  nation  might  gladly  yield  a valid  right 
rather  than  contest  it  in  war  at  a cost  exceeding  the 
value  of  the  right.  If  “ honor  ” is  at  stake,  a weak  nation, 
with  the  certainty  of  defeat,  must  fight.  What  then  is  a 
nation’s  honor,  differing  from  that  of  a man,  which  it  can- 
not intrust  to  the  keeping  of  unprejudiced  and  disinter- 
ested judges,  partly  of  its  own  choosing } We  must  go  back 
once  more  to  the  life  of  individuals  for  our  analogue. 

Two  boys,  comrades  and  friends,  fairly  generous  and 
just  according  to  the  standard  of  boys,  differ  in  some 
trifling  matter.  They  become  excited  and  indulge  in  some 
warmth  of  expression,  but  as  yet  with  no  really  hostile 
feeling.  There  is  no  ground  for  a quarrel,  and  left  to 
themselves,  a friendly  composition  would  usually  result. 


1 14  the  ethics  of  force 

The  other  boys  know  nothing  and  care  nothing  as  to  the 
merits  of  the  controversy,  but  they  dearly  love  a “ scrap,” 
for  which  there  is  a flattering  prospect.  “ Fight,  fight, 
form  a ring ! ” is  the  cry  as  they  gather  about.  Even 
now  if  there  is  a great  disparity  of  strength  and  size,  the 
one  clearly  superior  may  disappoint  the  spectators  by 
declining  to  “ thrash  ” the  weaker,  though  the  difficulties 
have  been  greatly  increased.  Finally,  some  one  places 
a chip  on  the  shoulder  of  one  of  the  principals,  and  a 
settlement  without  blows  becomes  well-nigh  impossible. 
Honor  is  at  stake.  One  is  dedicated  to  the  defense  of 
the  chip,  the  other  to  the  high  emprise  of  knocking  it 
off.  To  refuse  to  do  what  the  code  calls  for  is  cowardice. 
The  desired  entertainment  is  not  often  long  delayed. 
Next  day  the  boys  are  as  friendly  as  ever.  With  men 
the  causes  of  difference  are  not  quite  the  same,  but  they 
are  frequently  as  trivial.  Certain  forms  of  expression  are 
insults  which  must  be  wiped  out  in  blood.  Happily  the 
courts  give  much  opportunity  for  peaceful  and  vicarious 
abuse,  and  the  bad  blood  is  mostly  worked  off  without 
the  actual  shedding  of  any,  through  attorneys  paid  for 
the  purpose.  Enlightened  legislation  has  also  attached 
such  inconvenient  incidents  to  the  old  method  of  wiping 
out  insults  that  it  has  almost  entirely  disappeared,  or 
goes  no  farther  than  an  interchange  of  fisticuffs.  No 
matter  how  angry  a man  may  be,  he  is  very  apt  to  keep 
himself  within  the  law,  or  at  farthest  so  as  to  incur  only 
such  penalties  — say  small  fines  — as  he  can  meet  with 
little  inconvenience,  and  which  he  considers  only  a fair 
equivalent  for  the  satisfaction  of  beating  his  neighbor. 
His  anger,  in  other  words,  if  a brief  madness,  is  not  total 


SOME  OBJECTIONS 


I15 

dementia,  which  latter,  if  shown,  is  a sufficient  excuse  in 
law  for  his  acts.  Unfortunately  no  means  have  yet  been 
devised  for  laying  similar  restraints  upon  the  temper  of 
a nation,  though  there  is  no  doubt  that  public  sentiment 
everywhere  now  offers  some  restraint.  If  to  this  an 
actual  penalty  could  attach,  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt 
that  it  would  prove  even  more  effectual  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  peace  between  the  nations  than  is  the  municipal 
law  between  individuals.  For  while  perhaps  a nation 
may  become  insane  as  well  as  an  individual,  its  mania 
is  never  so  complete.  There  is  nearly  always  a large 
minority  which  does  not  share  in  the  anger  and  does  not 
lose  its  wits.  This  minority  knows  that  it  is  likely  to 
have  to  pay  for  the  excesses  of  the  majority,  and  seeks 
to  keep  it  within  the  bounds  of  reason.  The  city  of 
Pittsburg,  some  years  back,  was  compelled  to  pay  a 
large  sum  in  damages  for  the  act  of  a mob  of  strikers. 
Probably  only  a small  per  cent  of  the  community  was 
stark  mad,  and  a still  smaller  proportion  actually  parti- 
cipated in  the  destruction  of  property. 

But  in  what  does  the  honor  of  a man  in  fact  con- 
sist ? Is  it  not  in  the  living  an  honorable  and  upright 
life,  in  which  his  conduct  is  based  on  pure  motives, 
justice,  equity,  fairness,  reverence  for  the  good,  and 
hatred  of  meanness  of  every  sort  ? Is  it  not  the  denial  of 
these  qualities  that  he  mainly  resents  ? How,  then,  is  his 
honor  assailed  by  some  offensive  epithet  which  a vulgar 
ruffian  may  throw  at  him  ? And  how  does  a nation’s 
honor  differ  from  that  of  the  citizen  ? In  one  respect 
the  occasions  for  national  offense  are  fewer  than  with 
individuals.  Tempted  by  cupidity,  one  may  make  an 


Il6  THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 

unjust  demand  upon  another;  but  it  rarely  goes  out- 
side of  the  most  studiously  polite  and  courteous  forms. 
Insults  to  flags,  acts  of  aggression  upon  the  rights  of 
citizens,  or  violence  to  their  persons,  are  by  individuals, 
and  rarely  the  act  of  a nation  until  a state  of  war  actu- 
ally exists.  Now,  every  state  is  bound  to  repress  the 
lawlessness  of  its  citizens.  It  is  also  obliged  to  protect 
their  rights.  But  if  the  one  can  secure  the  rights  of  its 
citizens,  if  the  other  can  determine  upon  evidence  in  an 
impartial  court  the  facts  in  dispute,  in  what  conceivable 
way  is  the  honor  of  either  impugned  by  resorting  to  this 
court  of  reason  rather  than  to  the  chance  of  war  } Is  it 
possible  that  it  has  vindicated  its  honor  when,  being  the 
stronger,  it  has  invaded  the  territory  of  its  neighbor  and 
subjected  its  population  to  indiscriminate  outrage,  pil- 
lage, hardship,  and  suffering,  destroying  the  lives  and 
property  of  those  who  not  only  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  insult  upon  which  the  question  of  honor  hangs  but 
also  may  have  as  heartily  disapproved  and  repudiated  it 
as  the  force  thus  turned  upon  them  ? If  a man  call  me 
a coward,  shall  I prove  my  courage  by  beating  his  wife 
and  children,  who  may  have  disapproved  or  apologized 
for  his  rudeness  } A nation’s  honor,  then,  is  not  at  stake, 
or  rarely  so.  What  we  find  is  the  spirit  of  bravado  which 
refuses  to  let  a chip  be  knocked  from  the  shoulder.  The 
nation  must  not  “back  down,”  or  “haul  down  its  flag,” 
however  wantonly  or  wrongly  raised.  To  do  so  is  “ to 
show  the  white  feather.”  Wrong  a nation  may  endure, 
but  it  cannot  allow  another  to  imagine  that  it  is  afraid. 
It  is  the  old,  archaic,  irrational  courage  which  we  have 
seen  among  the  lower  orders,  surviving  long  after  its 


SOME  OBJECTIONS 


II7 

usefulness  has  passed  away ; the  false  and  foolish  pride 
in  that  which  is  not  a subject  for  pride  at  all,  a sullen, 
dogged  persistence  in  a course  after  it  is  evident  that  it 
is  neither  just  nor  wise.  To  the  false  courage  we  must 
add  the  false  patriotism,  unmeaning,  truculent,  sangui- 
nary, without  use  or  reason.  These  will  explain  a great 
proportion  of  the  wars  which  have  ravaged  the  earth 
since  human  society  began. 

But  while  these  primitive  conceptions  survive  and  are 
all  powerful  with  the  masses  of  men,  it  is  yet  true  that 
war  in  the  abstract  is  not  approved  even  by  these.  In 
this  country  we  found  nearly  universal  disapproval  of 
the  South  African  War,  one  half  of  our  people  bitter 
against  Great  Britain  as  the  selfish  and  wanton  aggres- 
sor, and  the  other  as  strongly  opposed  to  the  Boers  and 
blaming  Kruger  for  actually  beginning  the  war,  whatever 
the  rights  in  controversy,  under  the  belief  that  tempora- 
rily he  had  the  advantage  and  could  crush  the  British 
troops  before  reenforcements  could  reach  them.  Few 
thought  that  the  war  should  have  taken  place.  We 
boiled  with  indignation  that  Spain  should  seek  to  hold  a 
colony  which  had  belonged  to  it  for  centuries,  but  saw 
no  impropriety  in  ourselves  acquiring  a colony  by  force 
of  arms,  and  subjugating  its  resisting  people  with  awful 
slaughter.  The  simple  fact  is  that  the  public  sentiment, 
which  is  very  generally  right  when  uninfluenced  by 
prejudice  or  self-interest,  is  absolutely  untrustworthy  in 
times  of  excitement  and  in  matters  where  it  is  a party. 
In  another  generation  it  may  bring  itself  to  the  point 
of  view  where  it  sees  the  past  as  others  saw  it  when  it 
was  the  present,  but  temporarily  it  has  lost  its  reasoning 


Il8  THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 

faculty,  or  is  the  subject  of  insane  delusions.  That  the 
moral  processes  are  inverted  during  a period  of  war  has 
long  been  recognized,  but  that  this  is  equally  the  case  with 
the  mental  has  not  been  sufficiently  pointed  out.  That 
it  would  be  so  we  ought  indeed  to  expect,  since  the  mind 
cannot  be  set  off  into  compartments  acting  independently 
of  each  other,  but  is  one  and  indivisible.  Nevertheless 
we  have  somehow  thought  that  men  can  be  demoralized 
and  still  retain  their  mental  powers  intact.  It  would  be 
as  sensible  to  suppose  that  one  could  have  heart  disease 
without  its  affecting  any  other  part  of  his  body.  A little 
calm  study  of  the  utterances  of  some  of  our  best  journ- 
als, ablest  ministers,  and  most  conscientious  and  clear- 
headed public  men  before  the  beginning  of  our  late  war 
with  Spain  and  after  it  had  begun  will  reveal  such  incon- 
sistencies and  contradictions  as  admit  of  no  other  expla- 
nation, unless  we  say  that  these  men  are  hypocrites  and 
mere  shufflers,  which  I for  one  do  not  believe.  It  has 
long  been  recognized  that  the  ablest  historians  are  not  to 
be  trusted  when  dealing  with  a war  in  which  their  own 
country  has  had  part.  For  a like  but  still  more  potent 
reason  we  are  always  reminded  at  the  close  of  a war  that 
the  time  has  not  come  to  write  its  history.  But  surely, 
so  far  as  knowledge  of  the  facts,  sources  of  information, 
motives,  causes,  and  principles  goes,  that  of  all  times  would 
seem  to  be  the  most  favorable.  It  is,  however,  the  fact 
that  veritable  history  cannot  be  written  by  any  one 
whose  passions  have  been  enlisted  in  it,  until  his  mental 
and  moral  balance  have  been  regained. 

The  masses  of  men  do  not  reason  at  all  on  the  sub- 
ject of  war.  They  act  as  their  remote  ancestry  in  the 


SOME  OBJECTIONS 


II9 

prehistoric  past  acted  when  the  occasion  presented  itself. 
It  is  a mere  impulse  growing  out  of  prejudice.  They 
are  not  to  be  too  severely  blamed  for  it.  This  preju- 
dice represents  the  stage  of  progress  to  which  they  have 
attained,  and  it  is  idle  to  ask  them  to  act  upon  consider- 
ations which  will  actuate  men  in  some  future  age.  A 
nation  stands  no  more  chance  of  acting  on  rational 
grounds  when  the  hot  blood  is  up  than  does  the  individ- 
ual under  the  same  conditions.  What  then  ? The  indi- 
vidual is  born  into  a social  status  in  which  laws,  customs, 
and  established  tribunals  intervene  between  him  and  his 
crazy  impulses.  The  burning  questions  which  arise 
between  him  and  his  neighbor  will  not  be  settled 
between  the  two,  save  by  all  the  other  neighbors  acting 
through  the  law.  Philip  sober  confronts  Philip  drunk 
and  faces  him  down.  It  is  not  unusual  for  those  who 
are  subject  to  violent  and  uncontrollable  paroxysms  of 
rage  and  fury,  forewarned  of  the  approach  of  one,  to 
ask  to  be  put  under  restraint.  Ulysses,  assured  that  his 
reason  would  be  no  safeguard  against  the  song  of  the 
sirens,  had  himself  lashed  to  the  mast.  It  would  seem 
to  be  the  part  of  wisdom  for  a nation,  knowing  these 
things,  while  still  in  the  possession  of  its  faculties,  to  put 
itself  under  bonds  for  its  good  behavior.  If  really  con- 
vinced that  war  no  longer  subserves  the  interests  of  the 
race,  but  is  the  greatest  hindrance  in  its  conquest  of 
nature,  the  great  and  ever-increasing  burden  that  weights 
it  down,  it  would  seem  easy  when  at  peace,  when  their 
honor  — that  ghastly  specter  which  haunts  their  uneasy 
dreams  — is  wholly  satisfied  and  may  even  in  appearance 
be  preserved,  for  the  nations  to  enter  into  an  agreement 


120 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


through  which  war  would  be  no  longer  recognized  as 
a possible  agency  in  the  settlement  of  future  disagree- 
ments. They  have,  however,  up  to  now,  refused.  It  is 
possible  that  they  think  this  might  put  them  to  some 
disadvantage ; but  if  we  have  correctly  reasoned  thus 
far,  war  will  always  put  them  to  a greater  one,  questions 
of  “ honor  ” aside,  than  any  which  they  could  suffer  in  a 
court  or  through  arbitration.  The  real  reason  must  be 
that,  while  each  nation  recognizes  war  in  general  to  be  a 
losing  game  whichever  way  it  goes,  it  still  thinks  that  in 
some  particular  case  which  may  arise  it  might  reap  a 
profit  or  desirable  end  of  some  sort,  a gain  in  territory, 
in  credit,  or  in  satisfaction.  The  latter  may  accrue  even 
in  case  of  a disastrous  defeat.  If  honor  is  preserved,  it 
is  enough.  It  is  the  case  of  a boy  who  has  been  knocked 
down,  choked,  pommeled,  bruised,  and  battered  until  his 
mother  hardly  knows  him,  who  while  convalescing  in 
bed  grimly  consoles  himself  with  the  thought  that  he 
scratched  his  antagonist’s  face. 

But  granting  the  possibility  in  a given  instance  of  a 
material  gain  by  one  of  the  combatants  at  the  expense  of 
the  other,  it  will  be  difficult,  in  modern  times  at  least,  to 
point  to  an  actual  instance  of  it.  The  most  favorable 
example  which  could  be  mentioned  is  doubtless  that  of 
the  English  conquest  of  India ; and  yet  so  good  an 
authority  as  Goldwin  Smith  and  multitudes  besides 
doubt  whether  this  has  been  profitable.  If  this  had 
been  the  indispensable  condition  of  the  trade  between 
the  countries,  possibly  we  may  figure  out  a benefit.  The 
world  stood  aghast  at  the  indemnity  which  Germany 
compelled  France  to  pay.  It  probably  did  not  nearly 


SOME  OBJECTIONS 


121 


cover  the  expenses  of  the  war,  and  certainly  has  paid  a 
very  small  fraction  of  the  expense  of  the  great  armament 
which  she  has  been  compelled  to  maintain  ever  since, 
and  which  grows  year  by  year.  She  also  received  terri- 
tory which  had  once  been  hers,  but  which  had  become 
French  in  interests  and  feeling.  In  what  way  did  this 
benefit  the  German  people  ? It  added  certainly  to  the 
aggregate  wealth  of  the  German  Empire,  but  it  added 
in  a like  ratio  to  its  necessities.  It  added  nothing,  of 
course,  to  the  wealth  of  the  world,  and  nothing  to  that 
of  individual  Germans.  Even  to  the  revenues  of  the 
state  it  added  nothing  which  is  not  counterbalanced  by 
an  increased  expenditure.  It  did  furnish  additional  war 
material ; but  if  war  is  an  injury,  then  this  simply 
means  additional  means  of  injuring  itself  and  others. 
It  raised  an  almost  implacable  hatred,  a deeply  settled 
purpose  on  the  part  of  the  French  to  be  revenged.  It 
has  held  an  unwilling  people,  whose  opposition  is  perhaps 
with  a new  generation  beginning  to  die  out.  Commer- 
cially and  industrially  there  was,  it  must  be  clear  to  the 
slightest  reflection,  no  advantage  which  could  not  have 
been  secured  by  equitable  trade  relations.  For  what- 
ever view  we  may  take  as  to  the  desirability  or  necessity 
of  tariffs  for  the  sake  of  protection  or  for  the  encourage- 
ment of  home  manufacture,  no  one  surely  will  claim  that 
the  addition  to  the  price  of  an  article  adds  anything  to 
its  actual  value  for  human  use,  or  that  for  this  purpose 
it  makes  any  difference  whether  it  is  produced  under 
one  political  jurisdiction  or  another.  It  may  be  said  that 
these  equitable  trade  relations  cannot  be  had  except 
through  war.  It  would  certainly  be  difficult  to  show 


122 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


that  a country  has  ever  voluntarily  conceded  trade 
advantages  to  one  which  has  beaten  it  in  war.  If  actu- 
ally conquered  and  annexed,  the  whole  matter  of  trade 
concessions  of  course  vanishes  with  the  elimination  of 
one  of  the  traders. 

Probably  a great  many  intelligent  persons  believe  that 
the  great  activity  which  frequently  follows  a war  is  a 
compensation,  and  even  more,  for  its  losses.  . It  is  only, 
in  fact,  an  illustration  of  the  law  of  supply  and  demand, 
registering  the  increased  waste  and  consumption  of  the 
war,  with  a diminished  production  during  the  same 
period.  We  witness  the  same  phenomena  every  few 
years  from  purely  commercial  causes.  The  same  thing 
is  observable  in  disasters  from  fire,  flood,  and  earthquake. 
The  recovery  of  Chicago  from  almost  total  destruction 
of  its  business  was  a great  surprise.  Would  it  have  been 
still  more  advantageous  if  the  balance  of  its  property  had 
also  been  swept  away  ? If  so,  the  maintenance  of  a fire 
department  is  an  expensive  mistake.  Would  it  not  have 
been  well  to  have  burned  the  rest  of  our  cities  while  we 
were  about  it } And  about  how  often  should  this  process 
be  repeated  ? 

Now,  there  is  just  enough  of  truth  in  all  this  absurdity 
to  make  the  idea  dangerous  to  those  whose  reasoning  is 
superficial.  Post  hoc,  propter  hoc,  is  as  far  as  many  can 
go.  The  reconstruction  of  a city  or  district  is,  in  fact, 
beneficial  to  some  people.  Material  furnishers  and  work- 
men may  reap  an  advantage,  though  they  probably  have 
lost  more  in  the  destruction  than  they  will  gain.  A ship- 
wreck is  a benefit  to  the  beach  combers.  Physicians 
profit  from  disease,  and  dentists  from  toothache.  But 


SOME  OBJECTIONS 


123 


none  of  these  things  adds  anything  to  the  world’s  store 
of  wealth,  which  means  things  which  it  desires  to  use. 
It  may  help  to  redistribute  wealth  ; but  this  is  also  true 
of  theft  and  robbery.  If  war  really  has  added  anything 
to  the  world’s  production,  except  the  agencies  for  further 
destruction,  we  ought  from  this  logic  to  desire  perpetual 
warfare. 

It  is  quite  true  that  where  a city  like  Chicago  has 
been  destroyed,  a new  and  more  magnificent  one  will 
take  its  place.  The  ground  is  clear,  and  the  new  city 
will  represent  the  advance  during  the  period  since  the 
first  building.  Each  generation  profits  by  the  experience 
of  those  which  have  preceded  it.  A building  is  planned 
to  meet  a certain  want  and  designed  for  specific  uses. 
Sooner  or  later  the  conditions  change,  and  it  is  no  longer 
adapted  to  these.  It  is  less  useful  than  its  competitors 
and  is  no  longer  fitted  to  survive.  It  is  taken  down  and 
another  fills  its  place.  The  process  is  going  on  in  all  our 
cities,  in  some  more  rapidly  than  in  others.  It  is  only  a 
question  of  time,  and  not  very  long  either,  when  the 
existing  Chicago  will  all  give  way  to  a still  newer.  It  is 
sheer  lunacy,  however,  which  can  imagine  the  total 
destruction  of  a city  to  be  a benefit  to  the  world. 
There  is  no  way  in  which  the  destruction  of  the 
products  of  industry  can  be  beneficial  so  long  as  they 
are  capable  of  subserving  their  intended  uses.  When 
they  have  become  obsolete  peace  itself  destroys  or 
reconstructs  them  to  adapt  them  more  completely  to 
designed  uses.  War  and  peace  are  simply  antithetical 
or  antagonistic  forces,  their  processes  opposite,  their 
aims  as  different  as  life  and  death.  They  can  never  be 


124 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


brought  into  harmony  and  relationship  with  each  other. 
War  annihilates  the  products  of  peace.  Peace,  in  turn, 
destroys  the  destructions  of  war  by  restoring  her  own. 
And  if  it  were  true  that  war  made  the  arts  of  peace  still 
more  effectual,  we  should  still  be  obliged  to  say  that  the 
benefits  of  war  come  not  in  war  but  in  not-war.  While 
the  fighting  goes  on  all  energies  are  bent  to  destruction 
only  ; when  it  is  over  all  are  employed  in  construction 
and  distribution.  War  is  a benefit,  therefore,  to  the  ex- 
tent to  which  it  does  not  exist.  It  is  the  exact  dupli- 
cate of  the  schoolboy’s  idea  that  pins  have  saved  the 
lives  of  a great  many  people  by  their  not  swallowing 
them. 

It  still  should  be  noted,  though  I may  not  dwell  upon 
this  point,  that  in  the  exceptional  cases  where  war  is  a 
benefit  to  a particular  person  or  class,  like  famine,  pesti- 
lence, shipwreck,  fire,  and  earthquake,  the  benefit  is 
usually  much  less  than  is  supposed.  The  farmers  at  the 
North  very  commonly  thought  that  the  Civil  War  was  a 
benefit  to  them  through  the  rise  in  the  price  of  farm 
products.  Taking  into  the  account  the  increased  cost  of 
machinery,  tools,  labor,  and  family  supplies,  taxes  direct 
and  indirect,  this  was  a complete  delusion.  It  was  in 
reality  an  enormous  burden,  eased  somewhat  by  distribu- 
tion through  many  years.  In  any  case,  whatever  the 
advantage  to  the  farmer,  it  was  offset  by  the  disadvan- 
tage to  the  consumer.  It  was  largely  illusory  at  best,  as 
these  were  the  prices  in  a depreciated  currency,  which 
was  one  of  the  fruits  of  the  war.  But  in  whatever  way 
we  turn  it  about,  we  shall  find  that  the  advantages 
accrued  not  to  the  war  but  to  the  not-war,  while  the  loss 


SOME  OBJECTIONS 


125 


and  injury  were  chargeable  to  the  war,  not  to  the  pursuits 
of  peace.  It  may  be  conceded  that  a neutral  nation  does 
derive  a temporary  advantage  from  the  calamities  of  its 
neighbors  engaged  in  war.  In  the  long  run  it,  in  com- 
mon with  organized  and  mutually  dependent  human 
labor  and  effort,  must  help  to  make  good  the  loss  from 
destruction  and  the  negative  result  of  withdrawing  so 
much  labor  from  productive  industries. 

It  is  idle  to  prolong  this  discussion,  or  to  multiply 
illustrations.  If  the  matter  is  not  already  clear,  I believe 
nothing  will  make  it  so.  If  the  reason  is  perverted  by 
preconceptions  which  hold  themselves  out  as  religion, 
duty,  patriotism,  or  what  not  good  thing,  appealing  to 
the  conscience,  sophisticated  or  unenlightened  though 
it  be,  there  is  no  opening  to  such  a mind.  All  that 
can  be  done  is  to  exercise  the  other  virtues,  — patience 
and  hope.  After  all  there  is  progress.  From  the  dawn 
of  life  the  tendency  is  steadily  in  one  direction.  There 
have  seemed  to  be  long  halts  ; there  have  been  seeming, 
not  actual,  retrogressions,  — eddies  in  the  mighty  stream 
whose  onward  sweep  is  unperceived.  There  has  been  no 
change  of  direction,  no  backward  turn.  Slowly,  imper- 
ceptibly, imperturbably,  like  any  growth,  reason  widens 
her  domain.  Civilization  and  Christianity  are  one.  From 
absolute  antagonism,  universal  and  ceaseless  combat,  im- 
placable hatred  and  unconditioned  selfishness,  the  law  of 
life  has  evolved  combination,  interdependence,  sympa-- 
thy,  and  common  interests.  “Moreover  it  will  not  be  in 
my  day,”  said  Hezekiah,  concerning  the  calamity  which 
was  to  come  to  his  nation.  Not  in  ours  will  come  the 
crowning  glory  to  the  human  race.  But  while  those  who 


126 


THE  ETHICS  OF  FORCE 


have  striven  for  truth  and  rationality  fall  away,  others 
press  into  their  places.  Truth  is  not  lost,  nor  is  it  in 
danger.  The  day  is  dawning,  and  there  is  light  in  the 
sky.  By  and  by  the  sun  will  gild  first  the  high  and 
secret  mountain  tops,  and  then  spread  downward  to 
the  plains,  and  finally  flood  every  valley  and  glen  and 
savage  chasm,  and  the  shadows  of  the  long  and  dismal 
night  will  flee  away. 


Date  Due 

1 

*tuLnri 

mv  7 N 

fiov  2 0 r 

DEC  4 '62 

— 

f 

PRINTED 

IN  U.  S.  A. 

i: 


